


When Broken Is Easily Fixed

by Honigrahm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Angst, Awkwardness, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2019 (Supernatural), Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, M/M, Mild Smut, Misunderstandings, Sexual Inexperience, Terrorism, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-24 18:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honigrahm/pseuds/Honigrahm
Summary: They both needed saving, but it would never occur to either of them that they were slowly curing each other__________________It's 1989. Castiel Novak just started his first year of University and moved into a new apartment complex, which is set in a boring, quiet neighborhood. Until about one week ago, the black-haired man with the intense blue eyes was the only one on floor number three - and he loved it.Then, of course, he had to get this annoying new neighbor. This neighbor who seems to screw up time and space, as he is blasting loud music at 5AM and throws parties in the middle of the week. This neighbor he had not seen up to now, but already hated to his guts. This neighbor who prevented him from being completely functional during the day - if he ever was.This neighbor, that, as he gets to know him, would slowly but surely wrap him around his finger with his dark past and broken mind.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: DCBB 2019





	1. December 14, 1989

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dean Cas Big Bang 2019  
This is my first time participating and I hope that you all like the story I worked on for quite a while before even signing up.
> 
> Art by my amazing BB Partner Cale Kartel!  
Art Masterpost: https://kalecartel.tumblr.com/post/189086726939/for-the-first-time-i-got-to-participate-in-dcbb  
Happy reading :)

FOREWORD

Hey, it’s me...uhm… Cas. Castiel, I mean. Novak. Right, I have no idea how to write a diary. Or, in this case, a kind of… memory lane and all that. But my therapist insisted because I refuse to talk and I guess that even though I would never admit it to her face, she is right. I kind of have to deal with stuff. I have to… cope. To face it. Whether it is just for me or if I am able to ever show this to someone is a story for another time, as people keep telling me.

Either way… let me tell you one thing. 

This is my past, or at least the better half of it that I spent with the person I love most. And if you expect a sappy love story, well, this isn’t it. It’s full of flaws and mistakes, some small and some bigger than others. It’s full of luggage hoarded in dark places and only revealed when truly necessary, and at some points it is filled with this stupid hate that sadly makes us all human in some way or another. But even with all of that... I once read this quote, you know? Can’t remember the full thing but… I think it went like this:

“To fall in love and give yourself to another person does not mean you pull into a safe harbour. It only means that you sail the rough, open sea with someone else by your side.”

There it is - if there is anything describing my life, I’d say this is it. Don’t want to give away too much, though. I mean, I asked all my old friends for their fair share of this story and gathered as much as possible, just so I can relive this whole thing once more. So yeah... let’s get started. Let’s break my already shattered heart into more pieces.

Humming noises rang in his ears and were the only things he could focus on as they pulled him from his dreams. Indistinct sounds parted into more penetrating ones as he frantically fumbled for the digital radio that was supposed to be somewhere close to his head. After he freed his hands from in between his sheets, his fingertips finally felt the cool material on his nightstand while his mind began to work and the sleepiness started to wear off a bit. He squinted in confusion as he stared at the red numbers. His fingers moved over the device, frantically searching for the button to turn it off. He felt the smooth material of the sticker that showed some tribal angel wings and he was pretty sure that he pressed the right button. But the noises didn't stop. Drowsily, he lifted his head from his pillow. The cold air of the room instantly claimed its right to lightly caress his face. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and the red, bold numbers on the clock.

5:14 am.  
5:14 AM.  
5:14 A freaking M.

It took him a total of four tries reading the numbers before his mind finally processed them. But right at that moment, there was another thing that Castiel Novak had realized. The music was not his usual radio alarm. It wasn't coming from his apartment, either. The noises were muffled by the wall between him and his new neighbor, but still loud enough to pull him out of his precious dreams. It was also way too heavy a sound for his taste, but most importantly, it was way too damn early for blasting one's music through an apartment complex they’d just moved into.  
Castiel could be considered new, too, given that he had moved in only three months ago, right before he started college. The building was new, kind of, and since it wasn't that close to campus and was more likely a neighborhood for elderly people, there weren't many apartments rented yet. In fact, up to two weeks ago, Castiel had been the only one on the third floor, and he had liked it and wished for it to stay that way, thank you very much.  
Life never really played well or fair by any means, so of course, another person moved in down the hallway. A person that he had not met so far, and who seemingly loved to be a selfish dick by blasting rock music every morning around 5 AM or throwing awfully well-visited parties in the middle of the week.  
Long story short, Castiel already hated them to the guts, and every day that shitty music woke him up, a little bit more hate built up inside of him.  
Instead of taking matters into his own hands, though, he would stay in bed every single time and try to fall back to sleep, which only happened half the time, of course. Anger would boil in his stomach and mean thoughts float through his sleepy mind, but he would not do anything. He would swallow it down and just wait, doze off until another song would start and pull him back to be a groaning melee of limbs, turning and tossing in his sheets. He was just like that. He did not like people or socializing. Taking said matters into his own hands, though, would require exactly that Interacting with people, talking to them, acting and reacting. Interpreting little things like body language, facial expressions and, worst of all, words and how they were pronounced.  
When it came to all these things, Castiel was not just really bad and somewhat ignorant - he wasn’t quite able to put those little actions into the right order, the right outline, and he almost always got people wrong. Most times he did not get them at all.  
He was used to it after having that issue for 23 years now, but he was also used to confusing people. Not just that, but also to people making fun of him. Sometimes it was just a little remark—usually it was not meant in a mean way—but either way it was on Castiel to interpret it. But interpreting something was not easy, as he would think about little words and little expressions for too long and question them, overthink and contemplate over and over again, ending up with nothing but confusion and hurt.  
With all of that in mind, he was pretty damn sure that a conversation with his new neighbor would probably not end well. Although he could just try, he liked to stay on the safe side and stick to ignoring the music, because someone who was blasting rock and roll through a Thursday night could not be in a right state of mind, now could they? They were probably into too much partying or drugs or something, and people like that were mean. Castiel’s parents had always warned him because according to them, those people would take everything personal. Although in this case, it might be, Castiel admitted to himself. He was in his first year of college and every day he got home after hours of studying there, he would sit down at his maple desk, pull heavy books from his backpack and shelves, and study until the sun was long gone behind the tall buildings, and even then he would keep going. He got little sleep either way, but this neighbor and their shitshow made it even worse. Especially with upcoming exams and more work to do.  
So yeah, Castiel thought, it would definitely become something personal.  
Little did he know.

December 14, 1989 // 11:04am  
“Cassie. Castiel, wake up!”  
Castiel shifted and groaned until he eventually shifted to a more upright position and pushed his mess of black hair out of his eyes.  
“I'm not even asleep,” he replied and tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face.  
“You very much look like it either way. God, these bags under your eyes are tough. You should catch some more sleep instead of studying all the time.”  
By the time Balthazar had finished his sentence, Castiel had already gone back to resting his head on his arms and trying to fight the drowsiness.  
“I'm trying. But it's hard to sleep with loud music coming from the neighbors, Belle.”  
“You know, Cassie, you could always go and tell them to turn down the volume,” he chuckled and stuck his tongue out, knowing how much Castiel hated that nickname.  
“I don't want to.” Castiel sat back up and leaned back in his chair, groaning. He clenched a hand around his water bottle and forced himself to stay awake while taking a sip, but Balthazar was probably right. As much as he was trying to avoid confrontation, it seemed like he would not get around it for much longer. Especially not if he wanted to keep up his grades or, better yet, graduate at some point in his life.  
“Oh, come on!” Balthazar rolled his eyes and ate some of his stale looking sandwich. Doing all these things at the same time looked rather ridiculous, but Castiel refused to tell him so and just shrugged, picking at the food on his plate. He wasn't actually hungry. Meals were included in his college fees, so he normally shoved something down his throat either way. But today was different because he knew what was about to happen. It wasn't hard to guess. Balthazar would complain about him being stubborn and Castiel would shrug or give some other minimalistic answer that would upset Balthazar and leave him helpless, which would be the time that Balthazar would mumble something about an assignment that he would not even finish if his life depended on it - he never did homework - and disappear into thin air.

There was a silence between them, and even though the cafeteria was filled with noises, all Castiel could hear was the food that was crunched in between Balthazar’s teeth and the noise his own muscles made when he gulped.  
“You know, you won't be able to run away from confrontation your whole life, man. And it's not like you have to be scared; just politely ask them to let you sleep. It's already been a week. You don't even know them - they won't kill you, alright? Just someday, you gotta take that stick out of your asstiel and - “ Balthazar stopped when he looked at Castiel, whose head hung in a weird angle again, his eyes squinted and a mixture of disgust and question on his face. It was tremendous how many puns Balthazar had about each of Castiel’s expressions. Castiel suspected him to hold most of them back at least half the time, though, so that he wouldn’t be too absorbed into trying to understanding them. Balthazar didn't even wait for a response before he kept going.  
“You will love them before you even know.” He winked as he said so and then tried to hold back his laughter as Castiel's face grew more twisted by every second. He scrunched up his nose and his eyes spoke for him as he thought about the joke Balthazar just made. Eventually, Castiel frowned and then shrugged.  
“I don't see why I would do such thing.”  
The faint ringing of a bell reached their ears, striking another hour as the next courses were about to start, and Balthazar winked one more time before collecting his stuff which he had spread over the whole table, hastily throwing them into his bag.  
“Just talk to them, man. Or I'll do it.” With that, he went and left behind a desperately tired and confused Castiel.  
“Why would you speak to my neighbor?”

14th of December, 1989 // 10:37 pm  
The moment he left the bus, cold December winds tugged on Castiel's' dirty beige trenchcoat and let it hover in the air behind him whenever he took a step towards home. It was still freezing cold and sometimes he missed the moist heat and endless summer nights in Cali, where he would usually be around this time of the year. After he had graduated high school last year, his parents had expected him to go to a university near home, but Castiel had decided against that. It wasn’t just that he wanted to see some other canvas than the one he grew up with, but he needed a break from his mom hovering over him every second of the day, trying to make him talk to her and be the amazing son she expected him to be. It took her a long time to accept Castiel's wishes, but in the end, she was probably happy to see him leave.  
He had spent most of his day in the library, going over some notes and made even more to memorize, so that he would pass the history exam next Tuesday. Even though he loved the smell of books and their ink, the sound of pages being turned and the feeling of being surrounded by almost nothing but books, Castiel strongly disliked the thought of only being there to study. Sure, the upcoming exam was important for graduating his international history course, but he only took that one to satisfy his family, if he was honest. Which he was, only to himself, whenever he was alone in his room. He disliked history, but according to his dad, art wasn't a real career to pursue. And God forgive him for thinking that he could actually earn a living with an art degree.  
Castiel was pretty sure that his parents wanted to see him become a doctor or a lawyer. Something that would let him earn good money and make him a full and respectable member of society. But he did not want to, and even though he had felt shame when he had admitted it, with watery eyes staring at his feet, waiting for his parents to yell at him, he knew what he wanted to do. And if that was to splash some paint on a canvas and draw dumb creatures or portraits, then so be it.  
In the end, he got to go to a university that offered both courses: art and something more respectable, which his parents would find a-okay. It wasn't like he really needed their approval or their money, but he didn't want to be more of an outcast than he already was. Plus, two of his three brothers were high-society members and totally arrogant human beings, and his little brother was only a senior in high school but was already eyeing up med schools.  
As he thought about his family and groaned inwardly, Castiel realized that he had reached the building he was living in. The warm air hugged his freezing body as he entered and climbed the steps to the third floor and for once he was happy to live in an overly expensive, newly built apartment his parents had insisted on. Which, unlike most older houses he had seen on the market actually held in the warmth. Plus, Balthazar said that dorms were drafty.  
His happiness didn't last long. When he opened the heavy, wooden, white door with a bold black three painted on, he could hear the muffled music coming from the apartment next to his, blaring down the hall, and frowned.  
Castiel hated to change his daily routines for several reasons, so for him, it was already a big deal to spend his day in the library and go to bed later or earlier than 11:30 PM. But this semester's pre-finals were coming up and he would hate to screw up, so he tried his hardest to adapt. What he could not adapt to, though, was this screwed up new neighbor of his. He couldn’t help but glare down the empty hallway withholding a deep groan, hoping that said neighbor could somehow feel his wrath.  
Oh, how he hated them.


	2. December 20, 1989

20th of December, 1989; 04:14 AM

Enough. Castiel Novak had finally reached his limit as loud music pulled him from his dreams and well-earned sleep again. This time, it wasn't just the music, which was even louder than usual, blaring down the hallway. This time it also was the laughter, the talking in front of his door and the ungodly drunken yells echoing through the house. He hoped for one second that someone would call the cops or call the landlord because their new neighbor was surely overstepping every known boundary, but soon remembered that most residents were too old to even bother calling the police, even if they did hear the blasting rock music while he himself always feared talking to authorities. 

Castiel thought about calling the cops himself, but he was quite sure that it was him who would get problems with his landlord in the end, so there was only one option left. He groaned into his pillow and tried to hide his face there for a minute, as he felt it heating up by the mere thought of talking to people. But as Balthazar had been telling him all week - 'the time will come, young padawan, and when you summon the courage to do what others won't, you will have in life what others don't' - it seemed like there was no way around it now. He had to wrap his head around that fact and just get up, go in there, ask for the damn owner of apartment number one and kick his ass. Well, maybe not kick his ass. At least not in a literal way. Rather, Castiel would politely ask if he could turn down the volume, collect his drunk friends from the hallway, and let him rest because tomorrow was one of Castiel’s most important exams and all he wanted to do was sleep. After all, he had spent 5 weeks solid memorizing dates, events, and dumb technical terms referring to Ancient Greek history. Even being a Novak didn't help him avoid the stereotypical student life. He’d only eaten instant noodles for the past days, and, just to put it frankly, he was drained. All he wanted to do was sleep, take his exam and then celebrate with more sleep right after he finished it. Some dumbass neighbor had to interfere with that plan, though. Of course they had to.

Groaning into his pillow one more time so that he shared his feelings with at least something, he ruffled his own hair, which stuck in every direction, and threw on a random shirt and jeans that he probably should have washed before wearing it again, but he didn't care. No, he had to concentrate on other things.

Castiel caught his breath, which was stuck in his throat, and swallowed roughly, then opened the door to his apartment. Making sure he got his key, he breathed out and stepped out into the hallway ready to fight.

There were fewer people than he had expected. A group of four was sitting on the floor, two women across from two men, laughing and waving their bottles of beer through the air to emphasize slurred words. Apart from that, a few individuals leaned against the walls to catch some fresh (maybe stale was the better word) hallway air or just stood there in a drunken state of mind. They didn't as much as glance at Castiel as he passed them, working his way towards the door a few yards down the hall with his eyes pinned to the ground. He wasn't sure how to find the owner, but he was sure of himself. He had to think bigger, had to think about the exam and what it meant to him. Well, to his parents.

He sighed and squeezed through the door, which was blocked by yet another group of young adults, people in their mid-twenties, drinking beer and, from what smells he was able to identify, strong liquor similar to the one his father used to drink when Castiel was younger. Some of them paid enough attention to glance in his direction. Heads moved and eyes followed him as he strolled into the apartment with faked self-confidence from he wasn't sure where.

The condition of the apartment looked nicer than Castiel had expected it to, given the prejudices he’d had because of all these parties. It did not, in fact, look like the dark cave of a junkie or drunk man. There was a nice, black leather couch in the living room in front of a considerably big TV, glassy cabinets with some car models and photos on top. And even though the kitchen was one big mess of plastic cups and Vodka bottles, he could still see the effort that was put into the furniture.

That didn't distract him enough to forget those people, though. They were dancing, jumping around, playing games, and kissing in some corners of the room. Plus, there was music blasting and engulfing Castiel. His breathing became more shallow. He definitely needed to hurry.

Hesitantly, he squeezed through the people and re-entered the living room, hoping that he would find evidence of the owner's identity in the photos he’d spotted by the TV. His eyes still glued to his feet, he tried to not bump into anyone, although that was harder than he had thought. When he was in front of the cabinet again, Castiel lifted his head and saw the faces of a man with shaggy brown hair in one photo, a beautiful blonde in his arms. In the other one was the same man, laughter lines around his eyes, but at his side was a guy, whom Castiel couldn't identify as his side of the picture was hidden behind some trophy. He tilted his head to the side and tried to figure out an angle that would let him see the second man. He didn't realize that someone was talking to him as he was tangled in his own thoughts. A hand on his shoulder made him jump and nearly bump into a short girl behind him, who reacted by nearly spilling her beer all over the floor.

“Woah, calm down, man. Why so jumpy?”

December 20, 1989; 04:41 AM

His eyes were wide and darted around the room, his breathing shallow and fast-paced. Castiel heard the distant complaint of the girl he had nearly knocked over before he was able to regain his dignity and calm down. When he finally glanced at the guy who had dared to touch him, Castiel froze for a second when he looked into his face and was captured by apple green eyes. He contemplated running back to his apartment as fast as possible but eventually decided against it, coughed nervously and looked back to his feet. 

“Who are you? I don’t remember anyone mentioning someone this handsome coming.” When Castiel looked up, the strange guy was grinning, showing his pearly whites, but soon frowned and furrowed his eyebrows as Castiel shot him a questioning look,completely ignoring his remark. Why was this guy somehow reminding him of a doll with his sharp jawline? And why did he behave so weirdly?  
“Did you know that honey bees must gather nectar from two million flowers to make one pound of honey?” The other guy stared at him expectantly. “I don't... I'm searching for someone?” Castiel tried, and a witty grin spread back on the guy’s face that even drowned out the rainbow-dyed E.T. sweater the stranger was wearing.  
“Oh, and faith brought me here right now, what a coincidence.” The guy winked and grinned even wider, but Castiel only blushed in reply, not sure what to say. His eyes darted over the guy's shoulder aimlessly, trying to find him in the photographs, but he couldn't spot him. The man followed his gaze and turned his head over his shoulder, using the distraction to faintly shift closer to Castiel, who immediately took a step back, careful not bump into anyone again. He watched the man take a big gulp of his beer and empty the bottle before leaving it on top of the nearest shelf, then turn his attention back to his victim. It was rude to litter all over the place, but Castiel suppressed the urge to say anything.

“I'm sorry, I really need to find the owner of ... this,” Castiel tried, but his voice was carried away by some guitar riff that echoed through the apartment and someone yelling a few feet from him. The guy still smiled expectantly at Castiel, who was pretty sure that he hadn’t heard him. He tried to shoot back a small smile, but only grimaced as he tried to not be too awkward. Then again, he knew he would fail that either way. The living Ken Doll in front of him tried to shift closer again, and only then did Castiel realize how drunk the man was. The stale smell of beer didn't necessarily hang in the apartment but in his clothes, and his eyes, which Castiel only saw when he looked back up for one second, were watery and had this weird veil on top. He took another step back and squinted, trying to process what exactly was happening right now and how to get away from all these people. Especially this guy. Castiel’s search for the organizer of this whole little event was about to be forgotten. He saw some girls in the corner of the room looking over and whispering behind their bottles and hands, and it hit Castiel that they were talking about them. Shifting, he realized how sweaty his palms were. The guy followed his gaze, again, and slowly turned back to him, shrugging like he knew what Castiel was thinking.

“Ignore them, they talk shit about just anyone. If you really want to, we can just get out of here, though.” He winked, this time suggestively, but Castiel didn't get that at all as his attention was on anything and nothing at the same time. The music seemed to get louder and drown out his thoughts. His body tensed up and the only thing he wanted to do was lie down on the floor and curl up into a ball.

It was when the guy facing him, still leaning against the cupboard, slipped and nearly fell into Castiel, that it happened. It was only a small touch as the guy tried to keep his balance by supporting himself on Castiel, and it wasn't a big deal. Only a hand on his shoulder. But the moment he was steady on his feet, Castiel didn't even try to excuse himself. He simply turned around and bailed.

“Wait. Hey! HEY! I didn't even introduce myself! I'm -” but Castiel had already left the apartment and squeezed through another group of people who shot him weird looks before he reached his apartment and disappeared into it, throwing himself back into his bed. Groaning, he pressed his pillow to his chest and hoped to fall asleep despite the noises coming from next door. He’d never be able to tell Balth about this miserably failed mission.


	3. December 20, 1989

20th of December, 1989; 10:30 AM

Yawning, Castiel put down his pencil so that it would lay perfectly aligned beside his exam paper, then leaned back in his chair. He had screwed up. He was too tired, had been for weeks now, and he had barely been able to read the given questions. He was so exhausted that writing down the necessary answers in detail was just too much for him in this very moment. He huffed annoyedly, a habit he had developed and perfected during the past three or so weeks. Then, he proceeded by lifting his head and staring at the ceiling. A quick glance to his right told him that Balthazar was already done with his exam. He spotted his friend‘s figure on the compound through the large window front of the room he was currently trapped in, and decided to give up. At the end of the day, he’d only taken this course to please his parents, so even though they indeed expected high scores in his results, Castiel was sure he himself could do with a B for once. He still had thirty minutes left but decided to get up and turn in his papers before he fell asleep right on the spot, sparing himself some embarrassment. Clinging to his backpack with one hand, knuckles white from the sheer force his grip had, Castiel went over to the professor’s desk and handed in his exam, his eyes inspecting the wooden table as he nodded when his professor asked him whether he was done. He then turned, head lowered, and left the room.

“Hey, Cassie!” he heard the moment he stepped into the sunlight outside. It was nice, the sky was clear, but it was still chilly. At least he would have a rather large Christmas break starting tomorrow, meaning he could curl up in his sheets and not leave his bed for several days.

„Balthazar,“ he greeted rather unfazed and shuffled over to where his friend was waiting for him at his motorcycle. He put down his backpack, feeling too exhausted to even carry his beloved books on his back today, and yawned behind his hand.

„Let me guess, you have been partying all night and now regret every single minute of it,“ his friend‘s thick British accent echoed over the small courtyard, which earned him a glare from Castiel.

„I don‘t do parties. You know that,“ he replied but saw a smirk on Balthazar‘s face when he looked up again, and it slowly sunk in that Balthazar was simply messing with him.

„Oh. No, they were partying again, though. Couldn‘t close my eyes all night.“ He shrugged and another yawn escaped his lips.

„Told you, if you never talk to them, they won‘t ever understand what‘s going on. I mean, you don‘t even know who your neighbor is, so how can you expect them to even realize they might be disturbing someone‘s cave-time?“ Balthazar spoke, and Castiel shrugged, not sure of an answer to that question or if it was actually meant as one.

„I did try to... I mean, I saw a guy in photographs in that apartment, but I didn‘t see him at the party so -“

„Waaait wait, you were there, then?“

„I tried.“

„What happened?“

A guilty blush crept on Castiel‘s cheeks and he turned away, bathing his face in the little sunlight they’d gotten today and tried to hide. Apparently, it was too late though. Balthazar had already realized that not only had he put Castiel in an uncomfortable spot, but that he had been in that mindset for several hours now.

„Hey-hey, Cassie, it‘s alright, tell me what happened!“ he tried to calm him, but Castiel could already feel his eyes watering without him being able to control his body‘s reaction. All he knew was that he wanted to go home.

„I don‘t know. Can you just bring me home? Please, Balth.“ He spoke quietly, but as much as Balthazar loved to tease him, he also knew a few things about Castiel. Which meant that right now, he really just needed to be a pile of introverted limbs and brain, speculating about the future of bees or something while curling up in the safety of his bed.

Thinking about that, Balthazar kind of understood him better than Castiel probably knew. Sure, Balthazar was quite the extrovert, which was probably the reason he’d taken his lunch and sat across the guy in the dirty trench coat one day when he couldn‘t stand always seeing him by himself. It probably also explained why he was out every other weekend, partying or such. But even Balthazar, as much as he loved people, needed to be introverted some days and just be at home, by himself. So he understood how big of a step it had been for Castiel to even show up at that party, even though he hadn’t been there to have fun. Either way, Balthazar felt like a proud mommy when he got onto his bike and mentioned to Castiel to hop on behind him.

„You know, if anyone did anything to you in any way, you gotta tell me though,“ he said while he passed his helmet to Castiel who lazily took it and shrugged.

„What do you mean, why would anyone have done anything to me there? I just couldn‘t find them and... then there were so many people and... yeah,“ he concluded tiredly, and even though Balthazar knew that Castiel was hiding something, simply because he was bad with that stuff, he decided that he would wait until Castiel was ready to talk about whatever was really bothering him today.

„I don‘t know, but my protective mommy instinct kicked in, so if anything ever happens or if you want me to talk to your neighbor, just tell me and I‘ll handle it. `Kay?“

He felt Castiel shrug behind him and then started his bike.

December 20, 1989; 10:53 AM

Castiel had never been good at taking revenge. Not one bit. He wasn‘t even sure what revenge was, for starters, or why it would be necessary. No one had ever gotten him angry enough or even close to a breaking point where he would have thought about doing such a thing, but that was only until now. After last night, though, a certain feeling was bubbling in Castiel’s chest, a certain truculence that boiled through his veins and made him want to take action. So, after exchanging a silent nod with Balthazar and with still-watery eyes, he caught sight of not only his newspaper but also the one from Apartment 301 still jammed into the mailbox, only fitting in half way. With a quick glance towards the elevators and across the hall, he grabbed both and hid one in his trench coat, a somewhat pleased smirk on his face and itching in his fingers, even though he had no clue what he was actually doing in that very moment. At least he felt slightly better and ignored the very little guilt scratching him from inside his stomach.


	4. January 3rd, 1990

03rd of January, 11:02 AM

„You sure you don‘t want to join us? It‘s going to be massive fun, Cassie!“ Castiel sat on his kitchen chair trying to balance his phone between his right shoulder and ear while getting dressed at the same time, listening to Balthazar’s rambling while trying to not get caught up in the cord. „It‘s Castiel. But yes, Balth, I am sure that I can not see any fun in driving for six hours to climb up some rock without being secured so that epinephrine will be released from my adrenal glands to fuel my body - “ “I hear you trying to communicate but all I get is ‘blah, blah, blah’. Who speaks like that?”

“I don’t need to do such dangerous exercises just for the mere rush of adrenaline. Better?”  
He could literally hear Balthazar roll his eyes over the phone before he spoke again.  
„Suit yourself, Cassie, but you are definitely missing out here,“ he tried one more time, but the Castiel wouldn‘t bother. In all fairness, Balthazar was just trying to get him out of his apartment, which he had barely left during the whole semester break, and even though he knew what Castiel was like, that was a new low.  
„Man, come on. You don‘t have to climb, you can also wait down there, go to that big ass lake and just relax a bit. New year, new resolutions, right?“  
„Yeah, well, no thank you. I am good with just staying here and learning until classes start next week. Also, I found a really interesting book about the brutalised domesticated behaviourism of the Honey bee that I will read to relax if need to be. But you go have fun.“  
There was silence for a few seconds, even though it was never really quiet, with all that cracking coming from the line itself before Balthazar spoke again.  
„’Just promise me to not get lost in your head again, alright?“  
„Sure,“ Castiel shrugged, unaware Balthazar couldn‘t see him for a split second. He heard Balthazar huff, then:  
„M’kay. See you, Cassie.“  
„Yes, see you, Balth. Have fun.“  
„Will do,“ and with that, he hung up. By the time their call ended and Castiel hung his phone back into the cradle beside his sink, he was fully dressed and searching for one of the heavy books that were buried under about a thousand sheets of paper, all of them filled with a neat, curly handwriting that left every girl shy and self-conscious. He was just about to pull one out from under all his notes when his landline started ringing again. “No, Balthazar, I have no desire to revoke my words and come with you.”, he greeted after picking up once more, sure of himself that it was his friend who was trying to convince him - again. “What a way to greet your favorite brother, brother!” Instead of Balthazar's British accent, it was the bright, mischievous voice of his younger brother that came through the line and startled Castiel a little. “Gabriel?” “That’s always been and probably will always be my name, yes. Lovely to hear your voice, too, nerd. Happy New Year!” A small smile crept on Castiel's face when he heard his brother, cheery as ever. He hadn’t talked to him in a while, both of them being busy studying and all, but he instantly felt a weight lifting off his shoulders when he realized how much he had missed Gabriel and more so, how much his voice calmed him down. Just like the old days. “You too. How are you?” “I’m good as always. Studying is okay, although I still don’t like to follow schedules… or any idiot who thinks of themselves as wielding a scepter of authority just because they know a little more stuff that we still have to learn.” Castiel tried to follow his brother's words and scrunched up his nose a little. “You got in a fight with your professors again?” “Nah, it wasn’t multiple profs, Cassie. Only one, this time around. The guy from human genetics, to be specific… Also, I wouldn’t call it a fight. More of a… somewhat heated discussion where he was completely wrong and didn’t know what he was talking about up to the point where he threw me out of his lecture. Same old story. But nevermind that! I’ve got far better news. I found out that some candy shop carrying Danish goods opened up right near my University and now I finally know how to get through all my exams. Plus, there is one of those weird fitness centers across from it with a huge glass front and whenever I’m in there stocking up on my stash, I can laugh at people wearing the hilarious sportswear everyone is into at the moment. Headband, spandex and all. You should come visit sometime so we can watch them together. It’s hilarious, I swear. “Anyway, I don’t want to bore you with my stuff, although I know how much you’d enjoy if I were to tell you about all my classes in great detail. So how are you holding up? Still enjoy living on your own, bending the silence? You sure you don’t want to move into the dorms to get some people to surround you more often?” Castiel could hear how the light tone in Gabriel's voice changed a little when he ended his little monologue with a questionnaire, but unlike with other members of their family, Castiel couldn’t take offense to what Gabriel said. If it was his big brothers or his parents, Castiel would, at this point, already know how the conversation would end. They’d tell him that it wasn’t normal that he didn’t have a lot of friends, maybe slip some words like “freakish,” tell him that the “British guy was a no-good” and that Castiel should stay away from him, then tell him that he couldn’t keep living as he did. That he needed a girlfriend and so on and so on. Gabriel, on the other hand, had always understood him, and the only reason he was asking all this was out of concern for his brother. He had always been concerned for Castiel. It was Gabriel who’d protected Castiel from bullies in school, even though he was a year younger than Castiel was. Still, there was no time Castiel could remember where Gabriel wouldn’t be there and stick up for him. Even to their parents. the distance just made it harder for him because as far as Castiel was aware, Gabriel had never stopped feeling like he needed to protect him. “I’m good,” Castiel started and chewed on his lip while he thought of what else to say. His gaze drifted to the pile of unread newspapers on his little balcony. But as fast as he laid his eyes on them, an embarrassed blush crept up his cheeks and he lowered his head back to the table in front of him, his hands still hovering above the pile of papers. He shook his head, trying to get the guilty feeling out of his mind, but it wouldn‘t budge. Three weeks ago he had started to steal his neighbor‘s newspaper, and while it had started as his personal revenge for the parties and loud music in the early mornings, he had not stopped ever since. It wasn‘t like he really needed to do it and he was not completely convinced that his neighbor had even realized what was going on, seeing as Castiel had never seen or met him. Castiel didn‘t know how he looked, after all. Still, Castiel already knew that he would never go back to one of these parties to ask whether they could turn down the volume. Especially after that weird guy last time, whose hand he could still feel on his shoulder every now and then. He still hadn‘t figured out what this guy‘s purpose had been, although he’d been speculating for three weeks now. He’d come up empty handed, though. That only left him with stealing the newspaper, and he wasn‘t even good at that. Every time he would try to discard the stack, he would become paranoid before he even reached the elevators and turn around, too afraid of getting caught. And still, every time he went downstairs, he would take another copy with him. It had become a ritual, and Castiel was bad at breaking his daily rituals, now somehow worse than ever. “I like living on my own and I like the quiet. It helps me adjust better. And concentrate on school. I doubt the dorms would hold the same peaceful atmosphere.” He finally shrugged to hide the fact that he was hiding something before he remembered that his brother wasn’t able to see him right now. Phones were such a weird thing. “As you please, Cassie. But as long as you don’t feel lonely...You know that there is always the option of moving down here. You can continue your course of studies at the local University.” “Oh, I don’t think I feel lonely.” “You do realize that was the moment you were supposed to say that you missed me, though?” He could hear Gabriel grin through the line. Or maybe it was his imagination. “Oh. Right. Well, I guess I do miss living with you, Gabriel… just…” “Yeah yeah, not the rest of them, I get it, brother. Don’t worry about it. But if you ever do feel lonely, feel free to visit me for a weekend or something. I was thinking about flying up to you for your birthday? We could go for drinks, well, one drink in your case, chat up some people, maybe prank that Balthazar-friend of yours… you know.” As always, Gabriel was talking non-stop. But Castiel liked how his brother never held back and talked to him just like he did to any other person. He never excluded him for how different Castiel was from the rest of the family, personality-wise. In a way, Gabriel was his binding link to the rest of the Novaks. “That sounds like it’d be nice. Although I can imagine that Balthazar trying to get you back for the colors splashing him when he lifted the toilet seat last year…” “He can try but he won’t ever get revenge on my glorious ass, believe me. I’m too good. Just wait and see.” Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “If you say so.” “Sure do. Hey, Cassie, I gotta go. I will talk to you soon, ‘kay? Keep your head up, bro.” “Thanks, Gabriel.” “Bye.”

After breakfast, Castiel threw on his trench coat and left his apartment, going to check the mail. It had been a little over a week since Christmas, and he had not heard a word from his family ever since. Normally, he would be home for celebrations, but this year he had used university as an excuse for not going. For once, he didn't want to sit still during dinner and listen to his mother‘s praise for the rest of his family until she would eventually ask him what he was actually doing. Because art was not a career, especially if your name ended in Novak. He had expected to get at least one call from his family nonetheless. Whenever he tried to reach them, he did not get an answer, and the only time his phone rang was when Balthazar tried to convince him to pull some pranks on their profs on New Year’s Eve or to tell him how his Christmas went. He’d spent it with Anna, his little sister who had flown over from Washington where she was studying medicine. At least Gabriel had put his mind to ease when he had called him, even though he had missed both Christmas and New Year’s Day. But at least now Castiel's suspicion that his mother had forbidden his brothers to call him again was proven wrong. Or, well, Gabriel had ignored her again. That always was a possibility. His thoughts were intertwined with memories of his mother‘s stern face and edgy voice, telling him to behave like a normal person, and a sudden wave of ugly feelings washed over Castiel. Good for him that there was no one else in the elevator, let alone the lobby once he stepped out. With his head hanging low he went to the mailboxes that littered the eggshell blue wall to the right of the entrance and bit his lip when he saw that, even though it was nearly noon, his oh-so-lovely neighbor had not taken his newspaper yet. Just like every damn day.  
Which is why Castiel nearly jumped when he reached for it and got disturbed by an unfamiliar gruff voice, scaring the shit out of him.  
„So that‘s why I can never catch up on the news nowadays.“  
Startled and flustered, Castiel turned around and nearly shrieked when he realized that some guy was standing right behind him. Slowly, he took the appearance in, starting with his feet. The guy was wearing brown boots and grey jeans. Where his legs ended began a black Zeppelin shirt with a red plaid loosely hugging the guy‘s slim hips and broad shoulders. But it was only when Castiel looked into the guy‘s face that he nearly threw his own newspaper into his face and bailed, especially when he saw how those intense green eyes stared him down, and the guy‘s face which had been scrunched up in a mixture of confusion and amused anger only a second ago lit up with a mischievous grin.  
„Oh, it‘s the running man! I was wondering where you went.“ He winked and Castiel stared at him with wide eyes.  
‘BAIL. NOW. SOS‘ his head screamed, but instead of moving he just stood still and gulped. When he didn‘t reply anything, the somewhat familiar stranger spoke again with a smirk that Castiel would have loved to smack off his face for some reason unknown to him.

  
„So, is there a specific reason why you’re stealing my friggin‘ paper every morning?“ He yawned before he added, „I mean, I don‘t really care, but it got a bit weird not getting any newspaper anymore and I wanted to check out why.“ He shrugged and kept talking when Castiel remained silent still. „Now, if I would have known it was you, I would have come down to get you way sooner.“  
Another wink and Castiel felt heat rush into his face. He grabbed the newspaper and nonchalantly shoved it into the guy‘s arms. His reaction was to pull a dumbfounded face while he tried to catch it while blocking the path for Castiel to flee.  
„Woah, calm down, tiger, I just wanna talk to you. I‘m Dean Winchester by the way.“ He smiled and Castiel nodded, then tried to shove past him a bit harsher than before. But the guy - Dean - prevented his movements by placing his large body in front of Castiel‘s, this time invading his personal space, his face only half a foot from his own. Or was it actually Castiel that had invaded Dean’s space, considering he had tried to get past him? Whatever.  
„Dude, calm down. Not gonna rip you another one, okay?“  
Castiel nodded, slightly shaken, and took a step back, then looked at the ground. He wasn‘t ashamed of his actions, to be honest, just ashamed that he had been caught.  
„What‘s your name?“  
„Castiel,“ he nearly whispered, the other man still intimidating him with this closeness and the fact that he spoke to Castiel as if he knew him. Then again, Castiel assumed that some people just behaved like that.  
„Well, Cas, how about we go up to my apartment and talk this through?“  
Castiel’s head shot up when he heard that unfamiliar nickname, his eyes searching for a hint of mockery in Dean’s face, but he couldn‘t find any.   
“My parents taught me not to go with strangers,” he blurted without thinking about it. Dean looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.  
“We live on the same floor and all. You were in my apartment before. Technically we drank together, so we aren't strangers now, are we?”  
“You were the one drinking while making me feel uncomfortable, actually,” Castiel reminded him. He left out how he wasn't even invited nor had he wanted to be there. A little taken aback, Dean held up both his hands in defense. But it didn't take him long to get back to his old, cocky self.  
“Dude, if you can steal my newspaper, you shouldn't be having a problem facing the consequences. Which, at this point, are harmless. Because I for one want to know what's happening here instead of breaking loose a stupid feud. It's destroying my white picket fence dream.”  
Castiel blurted out another critique before he could help himself. “I always thought that was included in the package.” His eyes wandered back to the ground and he shrugged, biting his lip, assuming that the way it looked he wasn't going to get rid of Dean nor his pleas to talk to him any time soon. Plus, Castiel did steal his newspaper and he should probably apologize… if Dean would apologize for partying and taking his precious sleep from him. The whole conversation was going to be massively unpleasant. Especially seeing as he was still surprised by the weirdo who had talked to him without a filter at that party, and slightly annoyed he hadn’t admitted that he was the guy Castiel had been searching for. Then again, the music had been too loud.  
He still wanted to shake his head and bail, maybe even out the front door for a run, but he realized that he wasn‘t wearing the right clothes or, better yet, shoes, so he ended up nodding and trying to hide the redness that was prominent on his face. Now, that was probably the worst method for getting to know your neighbor possible, stealing his dumb mail. Then again... it wasn‘t like Castiel had wanted to get to know that Dean guy in the first place. He scratched his neck and followed him to the elevator.

January 3rd, 1989; 11:18 AM

Castiel was fumbling with his hands, tugging on his fingers while waiting for Dean to open the door to his apartment. He was not sure it was a good idea to follow a stranger like this, not only invading his personal space but also not knowing what would wait for him inside. Dean could be an axe murderer for all he knew. Well, no, scratch that. What he knew was that Dean had a problem with respecting other people’s need for rest and peace, and he had a fair amount of luck for not being busted by their landlord yet. Still, Castiel felt uncomfortable and the usually smooth sweater that hugged his body now felt like it was squeezing the air out of his lungs. The apartment itself was laid out much like his own, although it looked more makeshift than he remembered. He followed Dean past the kitchen where he could see dirty dishes hoarding the sink and walked along into the living room. Without human bodies filling the rooms, moving and swaying back and forth while loud music blasted through the air, it almost looked calm, how the sun hit the window’s southside and enveloped everything in a golden light. Even the not-so-neatly-painted walls that didn’t quite hide the ugly red and brown bricks beneath layers of yellow seemed not as bad as he remembered from his very short visit. Still, the black leather couch and the glass cabinets were there as well as some other interior that looked like it was self-made, but not in a bad way. It gave a personal vibe that mixed in well and it seemed as if Dean had combined every possible style in one apartment. Not bad. The only thing that was different than last time, Castiel remembered, were the missing photos on top of and in the cabinets beside the TV. Apparently, they had been moved to make space for miniature models of old cars, although that was all he could say for sure. At least they looked old? But when Dean came back into his view, offering him a seat with a small gesture of his arm, Castiel’s mind focused back on what he had tried to prepare the whole way up here. Only his defense speech crumbled away in his head and he felt like apologizing was a better option with him being in the enemy's territory.

“Okay listen, I apologize,” Castiel started, already tripping over his words. “I didn’t… well, I did mean to steal your newspaper but it was… look I…, okay, so your parties were loud and uhhm… I had to study for my exams and get sleep and uhhm… so you see, it wasn’t really just dumb but also kind of a revenge, but I know I should not have gone to such lengths because it will only fuel you more with energy to party because you -”

“What?”

“What?” Castiel looked up suddenly seeing that Dean was standing mere inches away from him, studying him with wide eyes, which looked warm from reflecting the sun. And so, so bright.

“Are you trying to confuse me on purpose? Because I didn’t catch one thing you just said.” Dean shrugged and a small smirk tugged on his lips.

“I… apologized profoundly and you didn’t listen?”

Dean’s eyebrows now shot towards the sky and he turned away, grabbing a bottle from the top of a cabinet beside him with a glass and pouring himself some.

“Nope. Not really. Want one?” he then asked, holding up a bottle of vodka. Really? Hadn’t he partied last night -- well, morning -- and now he was starting his next shot already? It wasn’t even noon. With big, blue eyes Castiel watched him, lost in his thoughts wondering what demons Dean was fighting compared to himself.

“Soo, Cas,” Dean started, swallowing the liquor and ignoring Castiel’s small protests against the weird nickname he had chosen to give him. “I didn’t even know there was another soul living up here. I mean, honestly, isn’t this an old people’s house? You are what - 22? 23?”

Castiel looked at Dean, his eyes seemingly darker now that he was trying to figure what this guy actually wanted him here for. He cautiously took a seat on the couch. He sat stiffly like a puppet, but he didn’t quite feel at home, if he was honest. Dean, on the other hand, plopped himself down in the nearest chair opposite the couch and a small table made of glass and propped his feet up, making himself as comfortable as it gets. Castiel lowered his gaze to his lap and spoke with a quiet voice.

“You don’t seem much older than me, to be honest.” Although the liquor would probably make him ugly and old in no time. The next time he looked up, Dean seemed to look at every inch of Castiel’s body, seeing right through him. He leaned back a bit more, pouring himself another one, still not letting go of the bottle. Castiel watched him chug it with raised eyebrows but stopped his mind from making him comment and waited for something. Anything, really, to get him out of here. Instead, he was greeted with silence while Dean fumbled with the etiquette of his precious bottle and Cas found his hands laying in his lap unbelievably interesting.

“So, why did you bail from the party?” Dean eventually broke the building tension and Cas’s head shot up once more.

“I… there were too many people and I don’t like parties.”

“So… why did you come in the first place?”

“Because I wanted to ask the owner and organizer of said party if they could possibly be a little more considerate of the fact that other people needed to go to the university and take important exams the next day,” Cas blurted out without thinking and Dean barked a hoarse laugh.

“Woah, passive-aggressive much, angel?” Another drink poured, another one swallowed down immediately. If Castiel was reading the time correctly, no more than sixteen minutes had passed since the first drink.

“Listen, cutie, I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep it down next time,” Dean said. Another smirk plastered over his face reminded Castiel more and more of the the party when he had first met him overly drunk. He did not want to be around when Dean got to that state again, only to try and decipher said words and facial expressions for weeks when all he wanted to do was earn his educational degree and start a job. After he nodded, Dean went quiet again, just watching him while occasionally pouring himself more drinks, and although Castiel was far from feeling comfortable, he kind of liked the silence in another person’s presence. He didn’t feel compelled to saying something to fill the air around them and Dean was either satisfied with not being alone or just completely out of it. One way or another, Castiel quickly observed that he wasn’t the only one with demons lurking behind each corner. Because no one could convince him that Dean was fine. But then again, who was he to judge?

Some time passed and while they both seemed to acclimate to each other’s presence, the seconds ticked away and the silence started to grow on both of them until Castiel’s watch gave a dull chirp to remind him of chores that were due by now.

“I gotta go,” he said, still not sure what this whole thing even was but somehow more confident in Dean’s presence. Whatever had just happened in those few minutes, at least they hadn’t killed each other and ripped open their throats as he had imagined it in the elevator.

“Right,” Dean said, trying to get up and only swayed a little bit. He brought him to the door and shot him a dashing smile, although it was obvious that he needed to steady himself on the door handle.

“See you later, I guess.” 

Dean waved after Castiel when he left. Castiel followed the hallway to his own front door, now trying to figure why this guy wanted to see him? But he didn’t show later. Actually, it all could have been left past Castiel. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted anything to do with that guy if it wasn’t for the pecan pie he nearly tripped over the next morning. Someone had placed it in front of his door with a little note, neatly folded. He opened it only to reveal shaky handwriting on a crumpled piece of paper.

‘Sorry about your exam. Hope you didn’t fail. Didn’t know which pie you liked so I got you my favorite. Take it as a sign of conciliation? D.W.’ was written under similar sentences that had been scratched out multiple times before he had finally found the right wording. Beneath that was a telephone number with another short note.

‘In case you want to complain some more, my ear’s open for you. Xx’


	5. January 5, 1990

05th of January, 1990, 12:00 AM

“Hey, Angel!”

A grumbling baritone broke through the cold air and made Castiel nearly drop not only his keys but also the groceries he balanced on his other arm. He turned around and found himself looking at a smiling Dean standing on his side of the hallway, as Castiel had drawn territorial lines in his head after the party he wasn’t able to erase yet. He couldn’t help but return the cheeky grin Dean was showing now and tried to wave a small ‘hello’ before realizing that it would probably end with him dropping his dinner. Instead, he nodded and ignored the weird nickname Dean had chosen to call him. 

“You do realize that angels are commonly known as a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God, conventionally represented in human form with wings and a long robe? Hello, Dean.”

“Do you learn Roget’s Thesaurus by heart in your free time or is it part of your studies?” a startled Dean asked while raising his eyebrows until they met his hairline and made his eyes look obscenely big.

“I study arts and history, Dean. So no. Why would I learn a thesaurus by heart?” Cas asked, oblivious to why Dean was now laughing. He did, however, share a small smile with the guy who had come closer and leaned against Castiel’s door frame. Unsure how to tell him to back off, Castiel eventually managed to unlock his door. He turned back to Dean who just looked at him with an illegible expression on his face. Then he winked.

“Not gonna ask me in?” 

A blush crept up Castiel’s neck although he wasn’t sure why. It was probably the unreadable vibe Dean gave him.

“I’m not sure my room provides a good climate for having guests, considering that I didn’t manage to clean before leaving for class and it’s what people usually call a...mess,” Castiel said and mumbled the last part, seeing how Dean’s eyebrows rose back towards the sky before he shrugged and folded his arms in front of his chest with a smile.

“Wow, someone’s in a good mood,” Dean said before adding that he didn’t care about the state of Castiel’s apartment. At least he respected his boundaries enough to still not just walk in, so there was that.

“What?” Castiel asked eloquently.

“I don’t know, man. You’re talking more than usual, so I take it you are in a good mood.”

“Well, if you must know, I did pass all my exams despite your ridiculously loud parties and my grades were acceptable enough to exceed expectations and let me stay in my scholarship program, which means that I can stay… because that’s the deal I have made with my father.” Castiel explained with a tone of relief lifting his features. He somehow felt as if a weight lifted from his shoulders which made him feel young again. The past few weeks he had felt like an old man. Also, he didn’t see the little eye-roll Dean made because he shoved his groceries into his apartment behind the door while talking.

“Hey, that sounds great, Cas. Good job, man!”

“Well, it’s the least I had to achieve so it’s okay.” Castiel shrugged. He was almost sure that the way Dean smiled now implicated that he was genuinely feeling happy for his new neighbor, but it wasn’t like Castiel passed due to his help. Quite the opposite, actually.

“What? Dude, give yourself some credit. You are on full-board at a university a lot of people dream of, so don’t belittle yourself like that. In fact, you should celebrate!”

“Uh, no. Thank you, Dean, but I really don’t think that -”

“Why not, Angel? We could celebrate later,” Dean stated, his euphoria clearly getting the better of him. Castiel would have found it somewhat amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that, even before he had gotten to know Dean, he had decided to hate him for what he had done. Only it was quite hard to resist the shit-eating grin Dean gave him now combined with puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t like partying or celebrating, Dean. I don’t like a lot of people in general and I would never throw any sort of party to celebrate… well, anything. Especially not something that isn’t worth celebrating.”

“Riiight, but I’ll stop you right there. I wasn’t talking about a party, Cas. You see, I was thinking about the pie I gave you as an apology, and in fact, it seems like I was successfully bribing you with food. Or at least that’s what my gut tells me because, come on. Who doesn’t like food? So yeah, since you clearly don’t believe in yourself enough and you didn’t even try to come up with some crappy excuse of having plans… we could just go out and grab some dinner, you know. A small celebration, then. Not too noisy.” Dean shrugged, clearly already mapping out the whole evening. Castiel was preoccupied with Balth’s words of wisdom from that morning telling him that new friends didn’t necessarily mean trouble. His exact words had included profanities of several sorts that Castiel still didn’t get and hadn’t specifically referred to Dean, because Castiel hadn’t told Balthazar of Dean yet. Why did Balth need to talk about Hell when he was trying to tell Castiel that people could actually become his friend? Plus, there was that annoying nickname Balth called him all the time. What was it with people and nicknames?

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s a yes, right?”

Castiel looked at Dean once more and although he was trying his hardest to hate him, he had never quite grasped the full meaning of hate. Instead, he looked at a man not much older than himself who was looking back at him with what Castiel thought was a hopeful smile, maybe.

“Sure, Dean, but you can stop apologizing, you know. I passed.”

“Nah, it’s cool. This feels more proper than abandoning pie in front of your door. I worried that one of the half-dead would have snagged it. Creepy.”

“Dean, those people may be of old age but calling them half-dead is just rude.”

“Okay, but think about the pie, man.”

“What?”

Dean rolled his eyes once more.

“Looks like there is a lot you need to learn still. I’ll pick you up at seven-ish. Wear something nice.”

January 5, 1990, 07:10 PM

So ‘something nice’ in Dean Winchester’s language apparently meant a simple t-shirt and black jeans. Or at least that was what Dean was wearing when he picked Castiel up in the evening and led the way to the elevators.

“You are really pulling off the holy tax accountant, Angel.” Dean grinned and winked but avoided Castiel’s gaze once they both had stepped into the metal cage Castiel still wasn’t too sure about. After that, rattling noises filled the otherwise silent air. Castiel stood at one side of the elevator, Dean on the other, swinging around like a weirdo. Was he…nervous or something? Suddenly, Dean smirked and caught Castiel looking at him. Castiel, who was feeling way too overdressed. Smoothly and seemingly reading his thoughts, Dean took a step towards Castiel. He then removed his tie without even asking and motioned to the top buttons of his collar.

“You should undo those, man.”

Castiel looked at him for a few beats before following his suggestion, wary of the fact that this must look wrong to anyone who watched them. Fortunately, they were alone.

“Where are we going?”

“You will see,” Dean replied without missing a beat, back to his shit-eating grin that made Castiel slightly uncomfortable.

“Or actually, I got an idea. You won’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Turn around, Cas.”

“Why would I…” Castiel sighed deeply before accepting his fate, however he had managed to get here, and did as told. He felt the presence of Dean’s hands hovering over his head before he pulled soft fabric, probably his own blue tie, over Castiel’s eyes and blindfolded him.

“It’s a surprise. Trust me?”

Castiel didn’t answer, instead just turned to where he thought the doors were and sighed another time. This was not going too well. At least he didn’t need to try and decipher any expressions this way. He only hoped that Dean wasn’t about to do something… weird? Illegal? After another minute, the elevator finally stopped. But when Castiel wanted to move and take a step towards the lobby - or where he thought the lobby was - Dean held him back by his elbow.

“Not so fast, cowboy,” he said and Castiel could hear another grin in the way he spoke. What was it with this guy always being so cheery but also drinking so much? Although to be fair, Castiel wasn’t able to smell any alcohol on Dean for probably the first time since they met. They encountered each other in the hallways every now and then. They had actually talked a lot during the past couple weeks, although it was more of Dean talking and Castiel awkwardly watching him talk, trying to read him and most times failing miserably. It had been two or so weeks since the day Dean had caught him stealing his newspapers, and them sitting in comfortable silence together. Between then and now, the two of them had been in each other’s apartments quite often, too. Although, again, it was mostly Dean dragging Castiel over, calling him stupid nicknames, drinking, chit chatting---something Castiel sucked at. Most times, Dean would drink a few until Castiel declared that he had chores to do and they never really talked anything deep. Apparently, Dean hated ‘chick flick moments’ and Castiel… he didn’t exactly have anything to say to his weird neighbor. Well, maybe he had. But he didn’t know how to talk to strangers or people, so he was quite content just sitting there. At least he wasn’t alone.

About one week ago, his little brother had called him again. Gabriel was a little different than before and had ultimately apologized for not calling him earlier after their last talk, but explained that it was due to him turning his back on their parents. Apparently, something had gone down between him and their eldest brother, or even him and their father, and they weren’t on speaking terms any longer. Gabriel didn't specify any further but broke the news that he wouldn’t be able to keep Castiel company during upcoming family events, which was pretty devastating. Gabriel had always been his favorite brother. That evening, Castiel had curled up in bed and ignored Dean knocking at his door several times before he had let him into his apartment for the first time. He hadn’t been able to hide the sad state he was in, so he didn’t exactly have much of a choice when Dean had squeezed past him and rolled his eyes. He didn’t ask anything. Instead, Dean had just picked up some of Castiel’s things and cleaned up. He had even watered his long-dead plants in a sorry attempt to rescue them. Castiel felt a little better after that, and although he still didn't get what Dean was doing, he had smiled at some point during that evening, which had apparently satisfied the intruder in his apartment. And although he wouldn’t ever admit it, Castiel was started to grow accustomed to being called ‘Cas’, although he would never let anyone else call him that. Probably.

“I thought we were going for dinner?” Castiel asked, unsure of whether he’d gotten Dean completely wrong this time.

“We are, just calm down,” came a rather plain reply from beside him. He heard a button be pressed. A few seconds later, the elevator doors closed and they set in motion again.

“Where are we going, Dean?”

“Yeah, not gonna answer. Just wait for it.”

Castiel nodded, feeling somewhat stupid with the blindfold and patiently waited, his hands folded in front of him. After some more time had passed, a loud ping broke the rattling noises and they halted once more. The doors opened and Dean grabbed his elbow to lead him out. They took a corner and followed the hallway. Although Castiel knew that he was able to sneak a peek through the garment around his head, he didn’t do so. He wouldn’t admit to growing fond of Dean, but he didn’t think Dean was about to murder him or do anything else weird. Eventually, Dean stopped him and Castiel heard a lock being opened. Moments later, he found himself being gently pulled through a door which closed behind him. A delicious smell of food mixed with something familiar filled his nostrils and his mouth legitimately started to water. He then felt a hand tug at the soft fabric of his tie until it fell off.

“Tadaaa,” Dean sang, more or less, and raised his arms as if he were presenting some product out of an ad. What he really presented was his own apartment, though. Only that in the middle of his living room, which usually hosted a mess of old boxes and worn-out paperbacks, stood the table he kept in his kitchen with even more empty boxes on top every other time. However, this time there were two plates, cutlery and a little candle in the middle of it. He had even folded some napkins in … some way.

Castiel turned to him with a questioning look. Dean shrugged, embarrassment spreading over his face.

“I uhm… I just thought since you don’t like people we could just… stay in and eat some take-out? Besides, I mean, people are weird and judgemental and, I mean, we are two dudes, being dudes, you know, and, like… uhm. Too much?”

“I like it, Dean. Thank you.” Castiel smiled. That moment, Dean’s body seemed to be released from obvious pressure he had been under. His posture slumped down a little and he puffed out his chest, his cheeks still tinted pink but his eyes now smiling.

“I hope you like Indian?”

January 5, 1990, 09:00 PM

“Tell me something about yourself,” Dean said before he shoved another forkful of spicy food down his face.

“What do you mean, Dean? You know a lot about me already,” Castiel replied, unsure of what Dean was asking about. 

“I know you are 23, you study arts and history, you moved here for college and you don’t talk much about your family. You’ve also got this friend called Balthazar, although I got no clue how someone can give that name to their kid unless they are extremely high… oh, and also you like bees and cooking, although the one might not go with the other. Besides that… Well, I do know you’ve got a brother you like a lot who moved away because you mentioned that… and you like your trenchcoat. That isn’t too much to go by, you know?”

Castiel just looked at Dean listing all the things he knew on one hand while still somehow managing to eat. The food was great, even though Castiel wasn’t sure how Dean had gotten all his favorites. He put his fork down and sipped his wine. He didn’t know Dean could drink wine; he seemed to consist of hard liquor.

“What do you want to know, then?”

“Well, just, the basics, I guess? Like, … your favorite color. Hobbies. Your favorite book. What’s up with that trenchcoat. Just… you know.”

“Okay, well. My favorite colors are green and yellow. Green because I like nature, yellow because it reminds me of bees.” Castiel added the explanation after Dean gave him an expectant look. “I read poems and such, I really like Poe, I guess? Although I hated analyzing ‘The Cask of Amontillado’ back in middle school. Let’s see… ah, yes. The trenchcoat was a gift from Gabriel when I graduated. I think he meant it more of a joke because I was top of my class although I didn’t want to be and he always used that to make fun of me, but I really started to like it. Funny since he is the one studying medicine now. Plus, yes, he is my favorite brother. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I don’t even know what you do to earn money, Dean, and still I am sitting here sharing Indian with you.”

“I also got pie for dessert, so save some for that.”

“Okay, Dean.”

Dean eventually finished shoving food in his face and leaned back in his chair while he still fixated Castiel. For some reason, he hadn’t really taken his eyes off of him all evening, and more than once, Castiel couldn’t help the blush spreading over his cheeks.

“You know that I’m 27, I got a little brother, Sammy. My mom died when I was little and my dad… we aren’t on good terms, to say the least,” he counted again and Castiel nodded in response.

“I wanted to become a mechanic, love working with cars. But I ended up being in the military, actually.” Dean then shrugged, and Castiel eyed him.

“You were?”

“Yeah.” Back to his shit-eating grin, only that this time his eyes betrayed him. “Fun times but my platoon wasn’t too… accepting. They didn’t like me too much, so I stayed out of anyone’s business. We were in Iraq and… yeah, I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t a good enough soldier. They discharged me for insubordination and what they called… ah well, not too important. Anyways, yeah, that happened. I don’t really mind being back though,” he concluded at some point while pouring himself yet another glass of wine while Castiel was still on his first. Castiel cocked his head and watched Dean wondering what Iraq had done to make him an alcoholic.

“What happened, why didn't you follow your orders?”

Dean looked from him to the glass in his hand and swirled the dark liquid around, staring into it before shrugging.

“Not too important, Cas.”

“Alright.”

Dean’s head shot up again, eyeing Castiel like he wanted to say something else, but seemingly stopped himself before he could do so. Silence stretched itself over them and fold itself around them like a cocoon. Way too often, they seemed to find solace in the quiet they didn’t need to experience on their own.

“Thinking about it, maybe it wasn’t that much of a fun time,” Dean added after a while.

“It seems like it,” Castiel agreed and nodded once more.

“What, no prying? C’mon, Cas, It’s like you aren’t even interested in me,” Dean suddenly fake-whined before he jumped up and grabbed both their plates after making sure Castiel was full. He then dropped them in the kitchen sink before he staggered back over with a tiny box in his hand, similar to the ones that always littered his apartment.

“Pie?” Although he asked, Dean didn’t exactly wait for an answer before getting more plates and just dropping pieces onto them which he then put on the table.

“Isn’t that a bit much?”

“I got different flavors because I didn’t know which one your favorite was, so you can try them all and see which one you like. Sound good?”

“Sure, Dean.” Castiel nodded, unsure of what else to say. He was still confused about why Dean was going to such lengths to celebrate the exams he passed. It really wasn’t a big deal, or at least it didn’t feel like it since he wasn’t going to become a doctor and his family still didn’t acknowledge the fact that he was actually going to an university and have a career.

“So why didn’t they like you?”

“Who?” Dean was mixing up all kinds of pie in his mouth and Castiel once more asked himself what exactly he was doing here.

“Your platoon, Dean. You said they didn’t like you.” He gave Dean a moment to swallow.

“Oh, yeah, right. I...” Dean stuttered and stumbled over his words, even putting his fork down while there was still pie on the table. Dean never abandoned pie.

“You know how some people only eat cake?”

“No, I don’t really know anyone -”

“Well, some people swear that cake is the only right thing to eat, you know. Because it's the most common, and it’s the real deal. Society accepts it the most, so every guy eats cake. But I’m not a cake guy. My brother is, for example. I hear there are some people liking both, cake and pie,” he continued without listening to Castiel's protests.

“I don’t quite understand what you are trying to tell me, Dean.”

“I like pie, Cas. Exclusively. And I can’t help it, and people don’t accept it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but why would people judge you for liking pie? Everyone likes a little bit of pie, I bet. What is wrong with pie and cake, and what if you like other desserts?”

With that, Dean fell silent. He picked his fork back up, his eyes on his plate. After a few minutes of silence, Castiel sighed.

“It’s getting late, Dean. I should go to bed. I’ve got so much to do tomorrow, you know.”

Irritated, Dean jumped up and nodded frantically.

“Yeah, sure, let me just… let me walk you to your apartment.”

Castiel stood up, picked up the trenchcoat and tie Dean had thrown over the couch earlier, and followed Dean to the door, then through the hallway. They were both silent, Dean squirmish but keeping a healthy distance between the two of them, so unlike every other time that obnoxious Ken doll had invaded Castiel’s personal space. After walking the few paces through the hallway they reached Castiel’s apartment and he unlocked the door, turning around to face Dean. His green eyes were drinking in Castiel’s every move and the freckles on his face seemed like specks of dirt dappled on with a brush swung by some skilled artist.

“Listen, back there… were you… talking about pie still?” Castiel said. “Because I’m really confused since I am nearly positive you weren’t, but also I know how much you love pie, so maybe you were and maybe -”

His train of thought was cut short when suddenly, he was pushed back a little while Dean closed the distance between them. Without any warning, Castiel felt Dean move against him, his hands on Castiel's hips. Dean had his eyes closed, his soft and warm lips finding Castiel’s. Castiel went still, unsure of what to do. Even if he had wanted to close his eyes too, panic arose in him. He forced himself to concentrate and took a step back, retreating into his apartment. Dean opened his eyes. Radiant green collided with the deep blue ocean. Then, Castiel shoved his door into Dean’s face before he could even open his mouth to say a word.


	6. January 24, 1990

24th of January, 1990, 02:30 PM

Castiel rolled his eyes when Balthazar eventually pushed away the books spread out in front of him and started to bang his head on the table, whining about how unfair life was to him for that he had to actually learn stuff.

“I thought this was all about partying, throwing shade and drowning in debt!” he cried out and Charlie, a petite redhead beside them, started to laugh wholeheartedly.

“Much to learn, you still have,” she breathed in her best yoda voice. Charlie had started out at the same college as Balthazar, which was how they’d met her in the first place, but she was too smart for all of them and had somehow managed to skip a grade. She was now studying at the same university, only she couldn’t stop to rub it into Balth’s face how he was a grade below her whenever he started to make fun of her. Castiel wasn’t sure how she still managed to watch all those movies and read a ton of sci-fi books to get all those references she spoke in when she was communicating with other humans. Across from her sat a grumpy older guy she had met at some geek-party at New Year’s. He refused to admit that he liked Star Wars although he was a ‘Trekkie’, or however Charlie always called him. He was Scottish or something, so his accent was even heavier than Balthazar’s and Castiel still wasn’t sure why he hung out with them if their learning sessions were eligible to be called that. He definitely wasn’t dating Charlie and all he did was throw in snarky comments and make fun of other people. Still, he was tolerable in one way or another. Balthazar looked up, shooting Charlie daggers with his eyes before he turned to Castiel.

“Come on, man. I’m done learning. Plus, we only just took our exams. Exam time is over. It’s party time, now!” He grabbed Castiel’s books and threw them onto a pile with all the others. Castiel knew that protesting would only bring him further harm with Balthazar, so he sighed under his breath and looked at the blond guy sitting in the chair opposite him. Why did Balthazar even want to come to the library if his work moral didn’t even last for longer than 30 minutes?

“We should do something fun,” he pouted and Charlie rolled her eyes at him.

“Every time I see a grown man pout, it gets a little funnier,” the older guy interjected, a smirk plastered over his face.

“Shut up, Fergus!” Balthazar countered and the guy rolled his eyes at him.

“It’s Crowley, okay?” the guy declared with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Right, and I am Aziraphale. You are reading too many books,” Charlie declared and Balthazar and Castiel both raised their eyebrows at them. This constant banter between the two of them was fun, only Castiel was kind of afraid of Crowley, at least to a certain extent. The guy just had a weird aura. They ignored the contradiction in Charlie’s words---she knew those characters and had obviously read just as many books---and turned to Balthazar, who seemed to be the leader of their little pit.

“So what do you have in mind?” Charlie asked and expectantly looked from Balthazar to Castiel and then back to the more extroverted of the two of them. Balth started to smile and leaned back in his chair. Only then did it dawn on Castiel that something was going on. His suspicions were confirmed the moment Balthazar emptied his pockets and held up movie tickets.

“You never planned on studying, did you?” he mumbled and Balth nodded animatedly.

“Yeah, no, not really. I just didn’t know how else I could coax you out of your man cave, Cassie.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, what do you think? We are worried about you, blue-eyes,” Balth said and rolled his eyes in the most dramatic way possible.

“I don’t see why you would have to be worried about me?” The sentence somehow came out more of a question than a statement, as initially planned, but Castiel covered that up with a shrug. Or so he hoped.

“Cas, come on we - “

“Don’t call me Cas.”

His three friends fell silent and traded suspicious looks before they shrugged off the aggressiveness Castiel had shown for the first time. Usually, he was dragged along and rarely got upset.

“Woah, calm down, sweetcheeks. Anyway, you are silent lately. As in, more silent than usual. Plus, you haven’t been stating weird and unimportant facts about bees lately and it’s starting to feel off. Okay?” Crowley sang in a weird voice as if it pained him to actually admit to having any feelings and being worried about people. Weirdo.

“Facts about bees are never not important,” was the only thing Castiel could think of as a reply and Balth rolled his eyes once more.

“There is more to the planet than bees, Cassie. Come on,” Charlie grabbed him and pulled him out of the library before they could end up in a heated discussion about Castiel’s passion and miss the movie. After all, it was a good flick. They all ended up being squished together in Crowley's muscle car and were on their way to the cinema. Castiel hadn't even been able to put his books back on the right shelves. He felt bad about that, but his thoughts were drowned out by the rock music Crowley was blasting through the car. Castiel ended up ignoring Crowley’s banter about the music and just stared out of the window, trying not to freak. The music reminded him of the parties thrown nearly every night down his hallway, and they reminded him of Dean. Dean who wanted to celebrate and talked so highly of him without really knowing him, Dean who would share a comfortable silence with him for hours. Dean who had kissed him. 

A chill crept up his neck, and Castiel was relieved when they arrived and Crowley parked. Before anyone could go on about him being weird lately, Castiel jumped out of the car and mentioned that they were going to be late for the movie. He hurried inside, only waiting for the others to grab his ticket and then walked into the already dark room. He picked a seat on the far right so that he didn’t need to sit beside a stranger and focused on the screen. The others followed him quietly, only speaking to him to offer some popcorn. He refused politely and didn't take his eyes from the screen although his mind was reeling and he was barely able to concentrate. 

They had been watching a re-run of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, one of Charlies favorite movies. Although they all knew the movie by heart, the whole plot passed by Castiel. So, while his friends were caught up in the movie, Charlie even reciting the whole dialogues, Castiel just stared and thought more about the freckled man down his hallway. What the hell was even wrong with him? Even after two weeks, he hadn’t figured out why Dean had kissed him. The moment the movie was over, Castiel excused himself briefly, fleeing to the bathroom in the process. He really didn’t want to talk about this with his friends. Sure, he trusted them, or at least Balthazar and Charlie, but he didn’t need them to gang up on him trying to comfort him. He just wanted some peace and distraction in the form of books. Now, they had taken that already, and the movie hadn’t been any distraction at all.

Castiel looked at his wrist, reading the time that showed him how much he could waste in this stall with a disgusting faded green linoleum floor.

“Castiel James Novak, if you don’t move and come out of there within the next three seconds, I’ll bust your ass!” a too-high voice startled him after he got lost in his head and Castiel opened the stall door looking like a deer in headlights.

“Charlie? What are you doing here, this is the men’s -”

“I’m aware, Castiel. But there is no one here apart from you. Plus, your feet were facing the wrong way to be using the toilet, to begin with. What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Castiel defended himself rather weakly and tried to avoid holding her flaming gaze.

“Castiel!”

Castiel groaned in response when at this very moment, Balthazar walked in with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t seem to care about the woman in their bathroom and leaned against the stained wall, looking at Castiel with Crowley at his heels.

“Intervention tiiiime,” he sang in a low voice and spread his arms.

“You care to enlighten us about what the hell your family did this time?” Balthazar ignored Crowley and assumed the only thing that hadn’t gone wrong for probably the first time since Castiel moved to this city.

“What?” Castiel said. 

Balthazar eyed him suspiciously and squinted his eyes.

“It wasn’t Michael this time?”

“No, Balth, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you aren’t yourself lately. All you do is stay at home more than usual. You didn’t even leave your cave when we invited you to go to your favorite restaurant, mate. What are we supposed to think? Obviously that your family belittled you again. Or scratched at your psyche, bringing you down. The usual shit. We are trying our hardest to help you, Cassie, but you need to get out and embrace the world around you in order to let us do that. I can’t just forcefully drag you out every day, man. I tried and you refused that, too, by the way. Although I showed up with my most charming self. It broke my soul that you didn’t even want to tap that,” Balthazar ranted, probably adding the last part to light up the situation a little.

“I couldn’t even scare you out when I randomly showed up on your doorstep last week,” Crowley added with a grumbling voice, which made Charlie grin despite the scene unfolding in front of her.

“Listen, Castiel,” she spoke then, stressing out his full name after he had freaked back in the library. “We want to help you and remind you that we are here for you. You just need to learn to talk to us. Trust us.”

“I do trust you guys,” Castiel admitted shyly, shrugging and avoiding their gazes altogether.

“So what’s going on with you?”

Castiel looked up for the first time since they had all squeezed into the rather small room and stepped out of the stall, joining the more or less circle of his friends.

“It’s not my family. Nothing is going on, really.” He averted his gaze to meet Balthazar’s, who looked like he didn’t believe him.

“It’s just this neighbor again, okay?”

“That neighbor?” Charlie questioned and Castiel remembered how Balthazar was the only one who knew about Dean, although he never told him about the first name base they had come upon… or the kiss.

“The one throwing parties every other night and stealing your beauty sleep?” Balthazar stated. Castiel nodded.

“We… talked.”

“You did?” Crowley sounded surprised even though he didn’t even know the story, not one bit. “Who got shot for that to happen?”

“I don’t know, he… he pushes me to hang out with him and it gets to me,” Castiel admitted to the half-truth. He technically wasn’t lying to his friends, he was just holding back a little information. As in the part where Dean and he had dinner together and that this guy kind of harased him.

“And? We force you to hang out all the time. As we said earlier, there is no other way to befriend you,” Charlie stated and shrugged, oblivious to the mental pain Castiel was in.

“Yeah, but he is… overdoing it. He gets too close. And he is throwing even more parties because I think I angered him,” Castiel finally said, shrugging and looking back to the floor. There was an unidentified stain next to his feet and he took a step to the side. Looking up, he saw all three of his friends look at him with a weird expression on their faces, as if they were estimating what he’d just said or knew something he didn’t.

“So, you think he throws parties to annoy you?”

“Yeah?”

“And… it’s not Michael bugging you.”

“No.”

Relieved, Balthazar raised his arms and made a show out of thanking God. . “That is definitely something we can deal with.” Balthazar smirked even though Castiel threw in protests the second those words left Balthazar's mouth. He didn’t need his friends to show up on Dean’s doorstep. Balthazar exchanged another glance with Crowley and Charlie before he shrugged and turned to the door.

“How about some food? We can talk more in a place that doesn’t stink like a toilet.”

“This IS a toilet. You do know that, right, blondy?”

“Whatever, Fergus.”

“Hey!”

January 24, 1990, 08:30 PM

A few hours later and Castiel was tiredly dragging himself through the apartment lobby. His friends were great but exhausting, that was for sure. The elevator doors were closing just when he arrived and in a desperate attempt to get to the safety of his own four walls a little earlier, he threw his arm in between them and shoved them back open. 

“Sorry, I need to get in,” he mumbled apologetically before his eyes fell on an all too familiar frame. Dean Winchester was staring at him with wide eyes and for the first time since the incident, as Castiel was calling it in his mind, they stood in front of each other.

“Cas -” Dean started but Castiel only took a step back and awkwardly averted his gaze.

“I uhm… going to take the stairs. Better for my health, anyway,” he stated and took another step back, only that Dean was following him. 

“Wait, Cas. Please, let me explain, I -” But Castiel held up his hands in defense and still couldn’t look at Dean. This was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to talk to Dean. Not only that he had kissed him for no reason, but it was wrong and Castiel knew that. What would his family think of him if they found out? His friends? What was he himself supposed to think? This was not...

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ll take the stairs.”  
“You wouldn’t if it really was as okay as you’re trying to sell it to me.”  
Castiel looked up only to look back at his fumbling hands in a matter of seconds. He heard Dean sigh.

“Listen just… call me when you need anything. You’ve got my number, don’t you?”  
Castiel nodded, thinking of the sticky note he had stuck to his fridge with an ugly magnet Balthazar had brought him from France two years ago. Castiel didn’t even know what it said, but couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. Besides that, he had also neatly copied Dean’s number down into his address book, even though his friends had been trying to convince him that address books were stupid or rather old-fashioned. The elevator doors were about to close when Dean stuck out his arm to keep it open and stepped to the side at the same time.

“I get it, Cas. Don’t worry. Here, I’ll take the stairs,” he then mumbled with a sad tone that took the air out of Cas’ lungs and left through the door on the side of the lobby, leaving Castiel in front of the dimly lit, rattling metal cage he hated.


	7. February 28, 1990

28th of February, 1990, 07:06 AM

The brown liquor swished back and forth in the glass on his nightstand, reflecting the sunlight fighting its way through the clouds and windows and into his very living room. Dean Winchester had his legs propped up on his coffee table, the rest of his body slumped over the couch. He groaned in pain when he moved. He had left his brains somewhere between the first and seventh shot this morning when a friend had dragged him to some random bar where his eyes hadn’t left a guy who looked like Cas until he realized his mistake… or maybe he just got too drunk to follow any movements anymore. Sammy was in town and had some appointment Dean had to pick him up from later today. The alcohol needed to be out of his system at that point. 

It had been over a month since Dean had heard anything from Castiel. It hurt him. He had never been one to have stupid crushes except for maybe in middle school when his physics teacher had been hot despite talking nonsense. But Castiel's rejection had crushed him, especially now that he didn’t want to even acknowledge Dean’s existence. The past few times they had seen each other in the hallway or lobby, Castiel had acted like Dean was just some thin air and Dean had put up his act of indifference. He didn’t know when he’d walked down the wrong path, but at some point during the time the two of them had spent together, Dean was sure that Castiel was like him. An outcast, but more importantly, a faggot. Queer. Whatever people had called him in the military while beating him up and shunning him. How could he have let it come this far? More importantly, why couldn’t he get the stick out of his ass and just explain it to Cas, telling him that he didn’t really know what happened, just lie about it? The loss of their friendship was what hurt Dean the most. For the first time in years, Dean had gotten his mind away from all the darkness and seen some light with Castiel in his sights. And what if they only sat in silence? It was comfortable and they had somehow helped each other with it. Or was that only what he was trying to tell himself so that it hurt less? Maybe he should just give up, hide this side of him and marry some random chick. Well, maybe not random. She had to be cool, like this girl down at the bar last night. What was her name? Jo? Lisa? Too many names he couldn’t remember.  
What if Castiel gave him another chance, though? Dean could try and just be friends with him. If Castiel ever let him, that was. But Dean was willing to try. So what, he was okay with just being a friend. At least he wouldn’t lose him and if he set those boundaries, he could also keep himself in line to not screw up again. Or maybe he needed to move again. Sure, he had just moved in, but what was there, really? He could find a different place to live, even though rents were freaking high in this city.

Dean got up slowly, swaying to one side when he felt the urgent need to use the bathroom. His head should be better after drinking some more water, but last night he and his only other friend, Benny, definitely had one too many. Dean was pretty sure that’s what his headache was implying. Benny was the only person who knew about Dean’s sexuality. He was the only one Dean could trust with it and who wouldn’t judge him. Dean hadn’t even found the courage to tell Sam, although he was probably suspicious of it already. He didn’t want their dad to get any wind of it, though, so he’d rather kept his mouth shut. 

After finishing his business, Dean stumbled over to the kitchen and grabbed an aspirin and some water. He wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to take blood thinning meds while he was still intoxicated, but who cared anyway. He, for one, didn’t. Since the whole scene had gone down, Dean had hated himself for ruining a good thing again and was drinking even more than before. Like, before before, because while he’d been seemingly growing closer with Cas, his drinking habit went down a good notch, too. He didn't really stop, not completely, but there had been a starting point of him getting better. He would never hear the end of it if Sammy saw him like this. With one swift move, he threw the pill into his mouth and swallowed hard. He hated meds but about an hour later his head was pounding a little less and he sat down once more, staring at the wall for a while. When he was sure that the hangover wasn’t as bad and he didn’t need the toilet in direct reach, he set the alarm on his radio clock for ten and closed his eyes. This time, the black was spinning a little less around him and his head kept him from thinking too hard, which had been the plan all along.

February 28, 1990, 09:40 AM

The next time Dean opened his eyes, it wasn’t his radio waking him. His eyes fell onto the numbers and he realized he’d woken 20 minutes early. What had actually caught his attention wasn’t his radio or rock music blasting from his stereo but the telephone in his kitchen making relentless noises that still somewhat hurt his head. Groaning, Dean got up and dragged himself over to the device on his wall. He picked up a few seconds later.

“Hello, Dean Winchester speaking?” He couldn’t exactly suppress the pain in his voice but the other person on the line was silent. After a few seconds of intense listening, Dean tried again.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Again, nothing was said on the other side and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Was it some kids playing pranks, or did one of those assholes harassing him back in the day found out where he lived again, trying to scare him?

“Listen, if you don’t say anything I’m just gonna hang up,” he stated calmly, although he could feel the fury getting the better of him and giving him a certain edge to his voice. When there was no response still, Dean dropped his arm in the process of hanging up. Just then, he heard a quiet, hoarse whisper.

“Dean?”

His heart stopped and his mind was reeling in an instant. Dean could distinguish this voice from anywhere, however hoarse or quiet it was. He just wasn’t sure how to act and suddenly his mind seemed to pick up on things he didn’t mind before, like how sweaty his palms felt.

“Dean, I -” the rest of the sentence was shaken by a violent sob from the other line and Dean made a surprised sound, instantly feeling alarmed.

“Cas, are you okay?” His voice seemed a little too loud in his empty apartment.

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know who else to call and…” Another violent sob failed to suppress.

“Cas I’ll come over, don’t worry, give me a few seconds!” Dean was already about to throw his phone back into the cradle when Cas spoke again, a little steadier now.

“I’m not home, Dean. I’m with my… my family.”

“You are in Chicago?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas answered slowly and if it wasn’t for Dean having to pick up Sam, he would have hung up and driven there to pick a fight with whoever had caused Castiel to be in this state. Instead, he tried to calm his own breathing and be rational. He didn’t have long before he had to go and Castiel obviously needed him to listen right now.

“What is it, Cas? Why...” He stopped himself before ruining it. Asking Castiel why he was calling him of all people was probably not the wisest move right now. So he swallowed the question, leaving it to hang in the air and waited for a response.

“I don’t want to be here,” Cas finally breathed after a minute of silence. “But I don’t know what to do because my train doesn’t leave until in three days. My brothers are… I just want to leave. I’m sorry I bugged you, Dean. I didn’t mean to.” Suddenly, Cas rushed his words and wouldn’t stop talking. “It was just that Balth took the time to visit his family in England during the break and Charlie is somewhere down in Topeka, LARPing without any access to phones and… you were the only one left.” 

Dean wasn’t sure whether those words were hurting him or causing his heart to jump, but he tried to keep it cool and nodded before he realized that Cas wasn’t able to see him. While his friend, or at least he hoped they were friends again, kept rambling, Dean went as far as the cord would allow him to go and grabbed a few notes from his table. He searched through them until he found what he was looking for, then fished for the leather jacket that he had thrown over the chair on the other side of the room.

“It’s fine Cas, I’m here,” he heard himself say distantly. It seemed like the right thing to say at least.

“I… I’m not sure why I called. I guess I just miss home. Sorry. Have a nice day,” Castiel suddenly blurted out before hanging up on Dean. Dean, who now stared at the little note in his hands, unsure what to think or do. Castiel had called him, after all. Did that mean he forgave him or was it merely because he really didn’t have anyone else? He could have called Gabriel, couldn’t he? Also, he had said… what was it again? That he missed home? Then why call him? Dean shook his head and finally rested the phone back in the cradle before grabbing the piece of paper and his keys, heading out to pick up Sam.

February 28, 1990, 05:54 PM

“Castiel, how about you make yourself useful for once and go open the door. There is someone there,” Michael declared and Castiel nodded without missing a beat, getting up from his seat on the far end of the sofa. His father glanced at him while Michael didn’t even give him the side-eye. Castiel’s eyes still felt swollen from crying that morning, although it didn’t seem like it was obvious he’d done so. His family hadn’t commented on it, but then again, they never cared. His mother was somewhere in the kitchen preparing dinner and it wouldn’t take long before he would have to help her even though he was visiting from out of town and, unlike his brothers, wasn’t here every weekend. He hesitated at the front door. He didn’t really want to see any of his old neighbors’ faces and have to make small talk with people he hated. When he finally opened the door, he let out a surprised gasp when he saw Dean Winchester in front of him. Castiel blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming before he felt an involuntary smile spread over his face.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, although it came out as more of a question than it should. What on earth was he doing here?

“Hey, Cas,” Dean waved, his whole posture lacking the usual self-confidence.

“What -” Castiel started but got cut short when his brothers appeared behind him.

“Who are you?” Michael snarled and Nick snickered, trying to stand on his toes to get a better view above their heads.

“Cas, who’s that?” His mother’s voice suddenly crawled around the corner and her figure following shortly after, an annoyed expression prominent on her features. Before Castiel was able to say anything, Dean took matters into his own hands and reached out himself.

“Hi, I’m Dean. Winchester. You must be his family, hey. I’m Cas’... neighbor. Castiel’s, I mean. I uh, I was in town, visiting family when they called me and told me something happened with the apartments? A flood or something, you know. They didn’t have your address or number, and they asked me if I knew where Castiel was. I thought that since they really needed us there, I would pick him up, if possible?”

Stunned, every Novak was silent and stared at Dean, including a confused Castiel who was trying to do the math. Why didn’t Dean tell him about a flood this morning, and when did he have time to visit family here? He’d never mentioned any. What was going on?

He only realized that all eyes were on him when Dean coughed under his breath, trying to get his attention. When Castiel looked at him again, he had raised his eyebrows just like he did every time he questioned something, and Castiel bowed his head a little, trying to catch on.

“Oh, that sounds real bad! It seems like you’ll have to leave now,” his mother said rather riled and not in the least concerned whereas Castiel was taking another moment to panic.

“A flood? I… I’ve gotta grab my stuff. Wait here,” he mumbled, trying to shove past his brothers who didn’t even attempt to look sorry or make him some space. Castiel rushed to the guestroom at the end of the hall that was more of a broom cupboard and grabbed the duffle bag he hadn’t had time to unpack yet. He threw in the toiletries he’d brought and headed back to the front door. Everyone but Dean had left already, not caring about the second-youngest son who’d just experienced a huge problem. Dean shot him a smile that warmed his stomach, but Castiel was too concentrated on the flooding. How was he able to smile in this situation?

“I’m ready, I… guys, I’ve got to go!” He intended to yell, but it came out as more of a whisper when his eyes landed on Dean’s and they locked gazes.

“What was that, Castiel? Speak up if you want anyone to hear you,” his mother replied from the kitchen while Michael walked back into the hallway glaring at him.

“I’m leaving,” he said louder this time and got all kinds of responses, but mostly just careless ‘alright’.

“You aren’t really going to leave with your lover, are you?” he suddenly asked and Castiel’s head jolted towards him.

“What…?”

“Don’t try lying, Castiel. We all know you are dad’s favorite, but we also know you are a little faggot. And dad won’t like you as much anymore if you act on that sinning part of yours, now will he?”

Castiel stared at him with wide eyes, his heart jamming in his chest. Dean wasn’t his lover. How could Michael assume such a thing when there was a flood in his apartment?

“I heard you call him, Castiel. Don’t deny it.”

“Come on, Cas. Let’s go,” Dean interrupted and pulled at his elbow, withdrawing Castiel from his brother’s wrath. That moment, his father walked around the corner and waved his son goodbye, shooting him a smile as though he hadn’t heard Michael, which, hopefully, was the case.

“You should visit more often, son. See you soon.” He smiled through his beard and Castiel nodded absently before he let Dean finally drag him out of the house, shooting a small ‘bye’ at his surroundings before he closed the door behind him. He followed Dean to a black muscle car that reminded him of Crowley’s, only that one was a Charger and this one was something different. He eyed the machine suspiciously before Dean spoke up.

“Beautiful, isn’t she? Cas, this is Baby. Baby, Cas.” He introduced the car to him as if it was a human and opened the driver’s door. He was about to sit down when he stopped and looked at something behind Castiel with a sort of worry mirrored in his eyes. Or rather someone, Castiel realized when he heard fast approaching footsteps.

“Castiel,” a voice boomed over and he turned around to face his oldest brother, Nick. He looked to and from Dean and his little brother before he looked at the house behind him for a second. He licked his lips as if he was stalling. He seemed to be thinking hard before he held up his index finger and looked at Cas.

“Don’t take it too hard, okay?” he suddenly spoke, surprising Castiel and causing him to furrow his brows.

“What?”

“Michael is… well, he can be harsh. And mom can’t deal with you being unapproachable because of your… let’s call it a sickness, because that’s kind of what it is. It is hard, sometimes. We aren't quite able to get through to you and you seem so distant. But we are your family. Also, mom doesn’t really hate you, although she isn’t as good as expressing feelings as she thinks she is. Don’t worry, they’ll come around,” he said, fast and quiet as if he was scared someone could hear him. He then turned to Dean and spoke up a little.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother, Ken doll. He isn’t too full of himself and can use any advice he gets, you know? Anyways, see you. Grasshopper,” he saluted to Dean. Actually saluted. Then turned back to Castiel. “Bro.”

Before Castiel knew what was going on, Nick was walking back to the white picket fence dream called his parent’s house and sooner or later, Castiel found himself riding shotgun while the rumbling of the engine was all to be heard for a while. Did the brother he’d called Lucifer behind his back just give him an out and actually approve of him fleeing from the family? Although, it wasn’t like he actually fled since there was a flood in his apartment.

“Cas, you do realize there is no flooding, right? Calm down.”


	8. February 28, 1990

28th of February, 1990, 06:31 PM

“So, no flood in my apartment waiting for me?” Cas asked for the hundredth times when he plopped himself into the booth at the diner Dean had stopped at after half an hour into the drive back to Kansas. His green eyes shone brightly but dimmed slightly when he rolled him at the oblivious man in front of him.

“No, Cas, no flood. I just needed an excuse to bail you out of there.”

“Oh.”

Dean laughed for the first time in what felt like years.

“And my brother just… soothed me although he is the devil himself?”

“Ahh, come on, Cas. He isn’t the Devil.”

“Yeah, he also goes by Antichrist,” Castiel answered and shrugged, causing Dean to look at him with big eyes.

“You just made a joke.”

“Yeah?”

Dean grinned heartily and waved over the waitress to order some pie without asking Castiel what he wanted - as it seemed to be a thing. Dean ordered one apple and one pecan pie, then settled his eyes back on Castiel without even acknowledging the waitress in her short dress anymore.

“Why are you here though?” Castiel said. Dean’s face fell a little before he chuckled and shrugged.

“You called me, Cas. Said you needed an out, didn’t you?”

“I did, but you… you don’t have family in Chicago, do you?”

“No.”

“And you already established that there is no flood. So you just drove here for over seven hours to pick me up from a little banter I had with my family?” Castiel asked, shifting in his seat and shooting the waitress a little smile when she sat down two Cokes and their plates. She nodded and left them to their conversation. Castiel wasn’t just confused, a state he constantly found himself in lately. He also felt something else bubble up in his stomach and tried to fight it.

“I heard people do that, you know, Cas? Being there for the ones they love in times of fear, doubt and hurt?” Dean locked his eyes on the table and Cas couldn’t fight the content smile that grew on his face. For once in his life, he was able to read someone else’s expression. Which changed shortly after.

“But you also know what I am. I mean, Michael basically presented it to you on a plate,” Castiel concluded after a while, thinking back to the scene they caused back at his parents’ house. He refused to call it ‘home’. Dean shrugged.

“Nothing wrong with it, Cas,” he tried, but Dean knew deep down that it was make believe. He had gotten too much shit for being gay throughout his life, even if he had always been quite closeted. He didn’t want to lie to Castiel; instead, he wanted to see him happy. But Cas seemed to know just as well as he did. He still couldn’t say those words other people had shoved down his throat since he’d been a teen and caught in a literal closet with a peer for the first time. But he also knew that those people were wrong and that there was no way they could blame Dean for who he chose to kiss.

“You don’t need to be unhappy and alone just because you are different, Cas. You can’t walk around being ashamed of yourself because honestly, what Michael does to you is mental abuse. You realized that, didn’t you? You already moved out, to a different state and all. So you might as well pick your own fate and believe in yourself to have a free will, whether it comes to studying what you want or love whoever the fuck you think is good for you. Just because the world isn’t ready for us doesn’t mean we gotta play by their rules.”

“If you don’t want to play by anyone’s rules, then why do you drink so heavily?”

Dean stared at him, his hand slowly lifting a forkful of pie to his face.

“You really know how to spoil a moment. But no, I drink to compensate.”

“Compensate for the unfairness of the world?”

“Compensating for my father being an abusive fuck, actually.”

Cas fell silent after that, watching Dean carefully. He didn’t want to be rude or ungrateful, but he was still trying to understand.

“Sorry,” he whispered, also taking a bite of his pie. He felt bad but somehow knew Dean wasn’t too pissed at him. At least they got some pie and he was away from his brother. And mom.

“What did Nick mean when he said you were sick?” Dean suddenly asked, startling Castiel. He knew the question would come up but had hoped that it would take Dean a little longer to remember.

“I uhm… I got more of a condition, really. I can’t read people too well and I fail at most social… interactions. You could also just call me an introvert who doesn’t know how life works.”

That, on the other hand, made Dean chuckle and the slight glare he had been giving to his pie a moment earlier vanished.

“I figured that, Angel,” he mumbled, more to the pie than himself and blushed when he realized that the nickname he had given Cas when they first met in order to mock him slipped out without him planning on it. They ate up and once they were done, Dean hopped up and paid at the counter, then motioned for Cas to follow him out to the car. They got in and sat there for a few heartbeats, but Dean didn’t start up the engine just yet.

“You know I meant what I said, right?” he asked after a while.Castiel nodded without missing a beat, although he hadn’t, in fact, known until just then.

“Also… don’t be mad?”

“Why would I be mad, Dean? You more or less saved me from my family,” Cas replied with a sad tone but honesty in his eyes.

“I uhhm… kind of broke into your apartment?”

“You what?”

“I didn’t have your parents’ address. How else would I have been able to find you?”

“I don’t… how?”

“Picked the lock. Found out in high school that I’ got quite the talent for that,” Dean shrugged with a mischievous grin. Castiel stared at him then looked out the windshield and shook his head.

“Guess we are even now,” he said to no one particular, leaving Dean looking at him questioningly. But instead of saying anything, Dean started up his car and got them out of there, back to their home.

February 28, 1990, 02:42 PM

Seven hours later, Cas and Dean finally arrived at their apartment complex. Most of the drive had been quiet, and while Dean hadn’t dared to talk about Castiel’s puffy eyes and how he still seemed really sad, Castiel didn’t mention how Dean’s body of alcohol, tobacco, and sweat. It had gotten dark quite early and it was way past Cas’ bedtime when they entered the lobby, Castiel got lost in his own head while Dean was searching for something to say. He didn’t want them to go to bed and wake up tomorrow only to be back to that awkward dance of avoidance they’d had going on the past months. He really needed Castiel in his life, but Cas didn’t seem up for any kind of relationship and even being his friend seemed to be hard to earn while it all felt just so damn easy. Dean only spoke up when they had entered the safety of the elevator rumbling its way up towards their level.

“So did you actually call me because you didn’t have anyone else to call or because of… something else?” he asked, knowing fully well that he might be about to destroy the little trust Castiel had built up again and tearing down the walls he himself had hid behind. He had also driven quite slow and respected speed limits so as to not freak out Castiel beside him, so why was he caring so little now? Did he really need to know so badly?

Cas only looked at Dean, then turned away. Dean wasn’t sure if he was looking for words, or if he didn’t want to or simply couldn’t answer, but at least he didn’t say that it was just Dean left. It didn’t satisfy him further than that, not being the answer he hoped for, but at least Cas wasn’t shutting him out again. Maybe he could do this. Maybe he could just be a friend, considering Castiel didn’t seem to be romantically interested? Dean’s head was spinning, but it was different from all the times he got piss-drunk stupid. Instead, he couldn’t grasp what was actually going on. Cas just confused him. On the one hand sending signals he definitely interpreted as ‘interested’, then changing back to being a stuck-up person like his brother in a matter of seconds. Dean thought he had gotten used to it by now but apparently, he was wrong about that too. When they finally arrived on their floor, Dean stopped Castiel from turning away.

“Want a drink?” he asked and motioned his head towards his apartment down the hall. Castiel slowly nodded and followed him.

After Dean led the two of them inside, he realized what a dump his place was. Hastily, he tried to clean up as much as he could while also getting two glasses and poured them a drink each. To Dean’s surprise, Castiel swallowed the glass like a shot and demanded a second one, still not looking at him. Dean did as told and wondered whether Cas was able to manage his alcohol, but Castiel didn’t seem too phased.

“I called you because I thought that you were the only one who got me. Balth knows about my family, but he couldn’t have helped me, and Charlie is great with people and wouldn’t get how I would not get along with uptight people like my brothers. She also asks a lot of questions and I don’t know how she would feel about me being… me, you know? You, on the other hand, get me… and I was really lost. It was like talking to a wall and as much as my brother insists on me being Dad’s favorite, Dad isn’t really there even if he is, to be candid. He takes time off every now and then, and I am pretty sure that whatever he does and wherever he goes, he stays there in his mind,” Cas suddenly said, speaking more than he had in the past eight hours.

“My mom hates me because she is like me and failed at a lot of social interactions during her life. She only got my dad because he is really patient, but her parents hated him. They always saw her as a failure and it seems like she looks into a mirror the moment she looks at me. That is also why she’d rather have snobby, arrogant lawyers as sons than an artist.”

“Hey, my brother wants to be a lawyer and he isn’t arrogant at all,” Dean interrupted with a content smile, but nodded to encourage Cas to go on.

“Yeah… not everyone is like that I guess. But my brothers are, and while Dad always liked me for thinking differently, they got really jealous. Especially Michael. He is also quite obviously against… men being in love with other men.”

“Gay people,” Dean interrupted again, trying to push Castiel a little. It was like he was talking to a virgin. Although, now that he thought of it, he probably was. Which he, under absolutely no circumstances, could think about any further because he had only decided a mere minute ago that he would try to be Cas’ friend. Nothing else, right?

“Yeah, I think that would be a term for them. I hope you don’t look at me differently because of it.”

Dean nodded and wondered if Castiel ever really caught on that he’d basically outed himself in front of Castiel within the first few seconds they met. Had he really missed out on his constant flirting, the dinner date they had to celebrate, and THE FRIGGIN KISS? Dean couldn’t help but stare at Cas. Even that brother this guy called ‘Satan’ had caught up on it, and he had only met him for a few seconds. Dean had literally confessed to Cas about his crush back when they stopped for pie. What the hell?

“Do you remember what I told you when we were at the diner?” Dean hesitantly brought up after two more drinks.

“About me having a free will?”

“Also that. But I was referring to the world just not being ready for us.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

“Us, Cas. As in, both you and me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to be gay on your own.” Dean shrugged, the alcohol already working its way through his body to loosen his tongue. He chugged the next drink he poured them and watched Cas do the same.

“We are broken, aren’t we?”

Dean’s face fell a little bit at those words but he shook them off with a “no” after a while.

“I don’t think that being different equals being broken, Cas. I truly believe it only means that we are staying true to ourselves despite what others try to tell us. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.”

“How so?”

“How can it be a bad thing if it brings me closer to you?”

Dean smiled an honest smile even though his eyelids were growing heavy. He’d had little sleep, driven for fourteen hours in total and now the liquor seemed to be taking over and working his brain into sleep mode. Castiel nodded, caught up in his own train of thoughts while he considered Dean’s words and tried to take them into account while battling his internal demons of being raised as someone who looked down on people who were gay. Only that, even though he’d never told anyone before, he himself was. He still wasn’t sure how Michael had caught up on it because a simple call couldn’t have given away so many clues. And what happened to his overly arrogant brother who always mocked him when he knew too well that Castiel didn’t get jokes? Or references. Or referenced jokes. Castiel put his hands above his head, stretching and yawning in the process. He felt just as tired as Dean looked in that moment, but he didn’t want to be alone. Not after Michael being an asshole and treating him like vermin the past week and a half he had been staying at that house.

“Can I stay here?” Cas whispered into the dimly lit room, half expecting Dean to have fallen asleep already.

“Of course, Cas. Any time.”


	9. March 1st, 1990

March 1st, 1990, 09:23 AM

Cas didn’t remember the whole story of why he woke up in Dean’s living room, curled up in a ball on the old couch. He just realized he was only in boxers and a tee, but he couldn’t care less. Dean always had the heater blasting like he was secretly wishing to live in a sauna. His back would be hurting like hell later, but primarily, it was his head causing problems right now. Cas really couldn’t handle his alcohol. Dean, at some point, after he had fallen asleep in his armchair, moved to the bed where he was probably sprawling at right now. This couch, on the other hand, was probably not intended to let a fully grown man sleep on it. Hence, no leg, arm or torso room whatsoever. Still, it had been a while since Cas felt so well rested despite the fact that he only slept for a few hours. The feeling of not being alone, probably mixed with a good portion of liquor had wrapped him up last night. He was utterly confused at where Dean and he stood now, and still unsure of why Dean kissed him back then. Probably because he sensed Cas being like him? There couldn’t be more to it, now could it. They were just friends, after all. Bickering back and forth every now and then, sure, but that’s what friends did.

Once more reminded of the fact that he was in a strange apartment, Cas was ripped from his thoughts when an unfamiliar bell rang through the rooms. He looked up, unsure of whether he could just go and open Dean’s door, but after a minute or two and another ringing, Dean still didn’t appear. Cas intently waited for the creaking of the bed, shuffling and lazy footsteps, but nothing came. Just when he intended to get up and open the door himself, questioning whether the stranger was still waiting there after several minutes passing, he heard a key turn and the door crack open.

“Dean?” someone asked into the open space between the main entrance and the hallway that led past the living room and down to Dean’s bedroom. Before Cas was able to comprehend what was going on, heavy steps echoed through the morning air and a tall guy with long wavy hair stood in front of him, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You are Sammy,” Castiel uttered in shock, only now noting how he was standing in only his undies. That was embarrassing, to say the least. Sam raised one of his eyebrows and obviously mastered the art of… what did Dean call it again? Bitch facing him? Still, he was undoubtedly the guy Cas had seen in the photos in Dean’s showcase.

“And you must be one of Dean’s friends. It’s Sam,” the giant explained, holding out his hand to greet Castiel after another moment and smiled. The bitch face had given way to a warm grin that spread to his eyes after he had looked Cas up and down. A blush spreading over his neck, Cas took the hand that was probably big enough to crush his head in an instant and shook it before he hastily shoved his own body into his jeans.

“I’m Cas..tiel, by the way,,” he eventually said and halted for a second. That stupid nickname really got to him. He hated it so much. But also, Dean wouldn’t ever listen to call him by his full name, so there wasn’t much he could do.

“Want a drink?” Cas asked out of habit. Sam on the other hand only widened his grin with a distant sparkle in his eye.

“So, Cas, huh?” he echoed and looked around while dropping his jacket over the back of a chair.

“Any chance you would know where my brother is? Last time I checked this was his apartment?” Sam teased so obviously that even he understood and Castiel coughed a little, being reminded how awkward this was. Of course, it wasn’t his apartment and he wasn’t sure why he was acting so… domestic?

“Uh… I think he is still asleep,” Castiel tried to explain without it sounding weird. Why was it, though? He was just a friend who crashed at his friend’s place. Nothing wrong with it, right? That’s what normal people did. Sam nodded, walking to the kitchen area and grabbing two glasses. He eyed the bottle of liquor but turned to the sink and filled both glasses with water. He then rummaged through one of the cabinets beside the fridge until he seemingly found what he was looking for.

“Need an aspirin?” he turned to Cas and held out a little white pill with the glass of water. Cas rubbed his neck and nodded in return, unsure of what to say. Was it that obvious they had been drinking last night?

“So, Castiel.”

He looked up after swallowing the pill and met an intense gaze. Sam seemed to be analyzing his every move and Cas wasn’t too sure he was performing overly well right now.

“You are one of Dean’s… drinking buddies?” he asked suspiciously and kept his eyes on Castiel. Castiel wondered if he did so that he could ignore all the empty bottles that told their own stories about his brother, whether he wanted to know them or not.

“Not really, no.” He shrugged and took a seat at the kitchen table after piling some of the empty boxes near the trash so he would have some space. He made enough space so Sam could also sit down and spread his unbelievably long mutant limbs, but instead, Sam seemed to be occupied with staring Cas down.

“I’m his neighbor,” Cas held up his hands before he realized how defensive he sounded. So, he dropped his hands and folded them on top of the cold oak table. “I live down the hallway. I never really drank anything before,” he admitted. Sam’s gaze grew a little softer but he remained standing as if he was waiting for Cas to tell him more.

“I study at the university,” Castiel continued, “and Dean and I… hang out sometimes?” Cas tried and Sam nodded, finally walking towards the table and taking a seat opposite him. This giant looming over him had made Castiel nervous, he couldn’t help it.

“What’s your major?” Sam then asked. Castiel could have sworn that Sam wanted to ask different things, but he didn’t, even when he didn’t answer directly.

“Art and history,” he eventually said, sipping the rest of his water and leaning back a little. He felt like he did back in that job interview for his internship after he finished high school. Nervous and unsure of what else to say.

“That’s cool!” Sam declared and smiled. He actually smiled a lot for meeting a stranger in his brother’s apartment, but he also didn’t seem rushed to wake Dean.

“I heard you are studying to become a lawyer?” Castiel asked back and Sam nodded animatedly. His smile widened again.

“So you really are more than Dean’s fuckbuddy,” he winked and Castiel nearly choked.

“What… no. We… we don’t. What?” he coughed, completely thrown off. Sam cackled and threw his head back in the process. Now that he was sitting somewhat comfortably, Castiel got a better look at him. He was definitely the younger one, around Cas’ age. He seemed to have less worry than Dean and his eyes sparkled with joy. Castiel wondered if Dean had looked like that when he had been younger.

“Calm down, Castiel. I’m kidding. Although your reaction was pretty sweet. I wonder how bad Dean’s heart attack will be if I make that joke around him,” he said after he stopped finding himself too funny, but his grin never left his face.

“Anyways,” Sam continued and looked around the place, which really reminded Cas of a dump at the moment. “You care for my brother?”

If the question was odd, it wasn’t as bad as how curiously Sam looked at him. It wasn’t just teasing as he had done before, but actual concern showed in his eyes. And something else Cas couldn’t quite place.

“I’d say we have a profound bond, yes,” Castiel answered without missing a beat and Sam looked satisfied of some sorts.

“That’s good. You seem like a fine man, Castiel, and Dean needs people who care about him in his life,” Sam explained and gestured to the empty bottles around the sink. “He is drinking himself to death although he swore to never become that person,” he then said, a little quieter than before.

“That person?”

“Like… Dad. You gotta understand that we didn’t have the happiest childhood, and I am telling you this fully aware that Dean doesn’t speak about things like this. Feelings, I mean.. Mom died after giving birth to me, there were some complications and Dad never got over it. Not that he ever really tried, not even for Dean or me. He blamed me. Dean stood up for me from when he was really young. He practically raised me, Castiel. While taking beatings that I deserved.” Sam stopped for a second and examined Cas’ reaction, gave him a second or so to say something. When Castiel sat there, unsure what to make of the information he just got, Sam continued. “I know he seems more than rough around the edges and hides behind this flirty self, but he is the best guy out there. And even if he thinks of himself as broken he archived so much without taking credit for it. Did you know he is an amazing mechanic?”

“I did not. He mentioned how he likes working cars though,” Castiel answered, his voice lowered to the same volume Sam was talking at. Sam looked at him again, then sighed and leaned forward a little, giving Cas no choice but to return his gaze.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that Dean saves me all the time. He even helps me to pay for university.”

“I understand that, Sam. You two are really close,” Castiel nodded, but Sam shook his head no.

“You don’t seem to fully understand. Dean always saves me, so I guess I am really trying to tell you that if you break his heart, I will save him for once. By breaking you.” All of that came out as a low rumble and before Cas knew it, Sam leaned back in his chair and gave him a content smile. Castiel didn’t know what to say and stared at Sam with wide eyes. He’d just been threatened by a stranger and the more he thought about it, the more he believed that Sam would probably be able to break him like a stick. Great.

“I’m not planning on it,” he reassured him after searching for the right words. Sam nodded as if he believed him. The giant then stood up and grabbed his jacket. Out of an inner pocket, he produced a sealed letter he held out for Cas.

“I actually planned on just leaving this on the table or somewhere Dean could find it.” Guilt was suddenly clouding his eyes and Castiel hesitated. “I can’t tell him in person… but he should still hear it from me.”

“I’m confused, Sam.”

Sam looked to the kitchen, then to the hallway and finally settled his eyes back on Cas.

“It’s sealed, but I guess I can tell you so you know that Dean might need you to stick around for a while,” he breathed, then swallowed thickly before he continued. “I’m going to move to New York to look after Dad. He’s sick… very sick. I understand why Dean doesn’t want to hear anything of him, but I can’t just let him go like that. He’s still our dad,” Sam explained with short breath. “Dean wouldn’t ever let me go.”

“I understand why this would be… quite troublesome for Dean, yes,” Castiel nodded and stood up too. He took the letter from Sam and looked down at it, deciphering the scribbled handwriting stating Dean’s full name.

“I will stick around, Sam, as best as I can. But I still have to live my own life. I hope you understand that.”

Sam shot him a what Castiel believed was a thankful smile.

“Of course, Castiel. Thank you.”

He nodded and waved Sam goodbye, then watched the giant retreat towards the elevators. When he closed the doors, Castiel leaned his head against the cool wood and took a breath, only to jump out of his skin when someone gripped his shoulder.

“Good morning, Cas. What’s going on?”

When he turned around, he faced a sleepy Dean, his eyes swollen from sleep. His freckles looked more intense in the morning light and his hair stood in every direction, quite untamable.

“Uhm, I,” Castiel started, but Dean’s eyes fell onto the letter in his hands and he looked at him with a scared expression on his face. Castiel handed it to him but didn’t let go when Dean tried to grab it.

“It’s not my letter, Dean.”

“Who is it from?”

“Sam.”

“Sam was here?” Dean looked at him with wide eyes.

“He just left. Listen I… I’ll give you some time. I need to do laundry and check up on some things. See you later?” Castiel asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. But Dean was only focusing on the letter and nodded absentmindedly after Cas asked again.

“Yeah, sure Cas. See you later.”

“Alright,” Cas replied quite unsure of what to do. Eventually, he let go of the rough paper in his hand and turned around. He looked at Dean one more time from the open door, and Dean shot him a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes at all. His fingers were fumbling the edges of the envelope.

“You know that I’m here. If anything happens,” Cas stated but Dean already nodded to cut him off.

“Don’t worry about me, I got this.”

Cas smiled at Dean and nodded, then turned around and walked towards his own apartment, fumbling for his keys. He heard the door being softly closed behind him and even though he knew Dean was probably going to be pissed at Sam, he couldn’t help himself but smile. Maybe Balthazar was right and another friend wouldn’t exactly hurt him. Thinking about it now, Castiel felt stupid for even pushing Dean away in the first place. He liked him a lot. As a friend. The smile spread further over his face and he tried to enjoy the moment before he would probably have a stupidly drunk Dean on his doorstep later, but he wasn’t sure what good he could do while Dean was reading and working through the letter. He also knew that Dean needed his space, especially when it came to his family. Castiel had finally gotten hold of his keys which were twisted somewhere in his pockets and was about to unlock the door when he heard a voice he didn’t exactly want to hear at that moment. Not when he was finally feeling okay.

“Castiel.”


	10. March 2nd, 1990

March 2nd, 1990, 11:55 PM

Dean wasn’t sure what brought him down to the basement except for the fact that he was in desperate need of clean laundry. Only that his head was spinning and he was full of questions he couldn’t exactly get answers to, so maybe it was more a distraction he was seeking. Like, why Sam would be so stupid and be there for a man who abandoned themm? Even when he was there physically, that didn't count. When Dean had read the letter this morning, he wasn’t sure whether to be angry or devastated. A feeling of emptiness had bubbled up. Although he knew that Sam had always been the purer one out of the two of them, he hadn’t thought he would go this far. And in some way, which was probably the weirdest aspect of it, Dean got him. Dean had taken a few hours to calm down. His first urge was to call Sammy, but he wasn’t quite sure where he was now. Probably already on his way up to the Big Apple, considering he was scared enough of his older brother’s reaction to not want to face him. And he didn’t even know where Dad lived by now. Last time he checked, which had been several years ago, he had moved a few times and lived in some dumpster, so now…

But now he was sick. He probably needed help and as it sounded from that stupid letter, he was very weak. No excuse still, but apparently enough to lure in Sammy to help this old bastard. Dean had spent some time on his couch staring at nothing in particular before he had decided to visit Cas around noon. Maybe he could talk to him and calm down a little because as much as he wanted to have a drink, he also wanted to see this guy with the amazing blue eyes who calmed him by only being around Dean. Only friends, though.

But when Dean eventually stood in front of Castiel’s apartment, he knocked for what felt like an hour and got no answer. He went back to his apartment and tried to call him, but even then he got nothing. Dean thought about picking Castiel’s lock again but he decided against it. Cas was probably out for groceries or with Balthazar, or maybe he’d just bailed for some reason Dean couldn’t think of at that moment. He waited the rest of the day, though, pacing and scared that Castiel might have decided against them being friends still after seemingly leaving in a hurry, which added to the pile of sorrows he already had and nearly crushed him. But, even with that, he decided not to drink for once. What if he was wrong and Castiel would come knocking at his door in no time after all? He probably was wrong. He had to be.

But Cas never knocked and Dean grew tired. So he tried to find distraction in little things. He picked up the empty boxes that once contained pie and threw them out alongside all the empty bottles occupying his sink and kitchen. He even changed the sheets on his bed and collected his dirty laundry from the bathroom floor, changed towels and cleaned the bathtub. After a few hours of not hearing anything from anyone and slowly working through all the garbage in both his head and apartment, at least the latter started to look less of a cave and more of an actual space to live in again.

So lastly, Dean took his dirty laundry to the basement laundry room. Dean never saw anyone else down there, but that was probably due to the fact that you could only get to the basement by stairs and none of those rotting old corpses occupying the other stories managed to climb them. Only that when he walked down the stairs this time, something was different. It wasn’t just a feeling, but a basket had toppled over a bench that sat along the right wall and laundry was sitting on the floor no one had cared to pick up. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and stepped further into the room, only to get at least one of the many answers in his head answered. He slowly sat down his own basket spilling over with clothes as if not to scare the person sitting on the floor in between two machines with sudden movements. When said person didn’t react at all, Dean slowly walked towards them and crouched down in front of them. He cocked his head the way he always saw the man on the floor do it and looked at him.

“Cas?”

But Cas was looking through him, fixed on some invisible point somewhere in the air. Gradually, Dean saw how Castiel realized a looming shadow had fallen onto his face and looked up with an empty expression on his face. His eyes were scarred with red rims, swollen from crying. By now the tears had dried, but Dean could still see the lines on the younger man’s cheeks where they had run down without doubt. Even the collar of his shirt was still moist and had a darker blue color than the rest of it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dean tried, but Castiel only stared at him. He looked tired. Dean cautiously put his hand on Cas’ cheek and desperately searched for any kind of emotion in them, but he couldn’t find much. Cas looked broken. Broken by the world and a weight he couldn’t carry.

So the only plausible thing Dean could think of was picking up the man whose frame now looked so small compared to this morning and silently carried him back upstairs. The laundry could wait. He somehow managed to get into the elevator without falling over himself, and leaned against the back wall while that rattle of the mechanics filled the air once more. He just held Cas, unsure what to say but pretty sure that Cas just needed someone around at the moment. When they arrived on their floor, Dean swiftly turned away from his apartment and walked the two of them to Castiel’s home, nudging Cas to hand over his keys when he didn’t quite manage to unlock the door himself. So Dean did just that and carried him straight to his bed. He helped a powerless man undress and tucked him in. Then, he crouched in front of the bed and raked his fingers through Cas’ thick black hair.

“Anything I can help with, angel?”

Cas shook his head, although most of the motion got swallowed by the pillow. Tears shimmered in the corner of his eyes, so Dean just continued to comfort him.

“Can you stay?” Cas finally said with a hoarse, raspy voice, and Dean thought for a second. He got up and saw panic flare in Cas’ eyes, but instead of leaving, he motioned for Cas to move over. When Cas did so, Dean climbed into bed behind him and held him to his chest.

“Better?” he whispered and felt Cas nod in response. Dean wasn’t sure whether it was the warmth from the body entangled with his own or whether it was something else, but his chest felt like it swelled up a little and a thousand butterflies seemed to swirl through his stomach. He held Castiel a little closer to his chest then and listened to their breathing until Cas had fallen asleep. Only then did Dean realize how exhausted he was and how much Cas felt like home. Dean followed him into the dreamland shortly after.


	11. March 17, 1990

March 17, 1990, 02:00 PM

Two weeks had passed since the incident in the laundry room and Dean was still camping out at Cas’ apartment. He hadn’t seen the inside of his own in a while, except for when he went for showers in the morning or grabbed different clothes. He didn’t want to leave Cas alone. Not when he was having a really hard time, waking up in the night and crying. Frankly, he was a wreck. Dean wasn’t much better off, and as much as he wanted to be strong for Cas and show him that he wasn’t alone, Dean was caught up in his own problems. Castiel didn’t want him around because he didn’t want to drag him down with him or at least that’s what he’d said the first morning. But Dean had stayed and Cas had cuddled up to him every night, had him soothe him when the nightmares took over.Even if neither of them dared to address what was in plain sight, something had shifted. They had changed their interactions without really realizing that when they ate together or just sat there, they exchanged small touches on the neck or shoulder. Dean would usually rub small circles into Cas’ hip whenever he dreamed badly and while Castiel got back to sleep a little sounder. Dean had stopped drinking even though he still craved his liquor every now and then. Cas didn’t exactly complain about the newfound proximity they shared and Dean just acted while he ignored his fears to screw up what they had.

That day, Castiel had gone to class for the first time in a week since his break had ended and Dean had had some time to himself. The moment Cas walked through the door, though, he had sat down beside Dean and leaned into him. Dean had only thrown his arm around hisshoulders and kept him close.

“It wasn’t too bad, but my friends are concerned about me. Again,” Cas stated after a while of enjoying each other’s company.

“How so?”

“They always worry about me. Everyone does.” Cas shrugged and Dean used his thumb to draw a pattern on Castiel’s shoulder.

“That only shows how much you matter to us.”

Cas smiled at him, rather shyly in his opinion before he rested his head on Dean’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“I like this.”

“This?”

“Us,” Castiel whispered and held still. The way he held his body, Dean was able to read how he was unsure about what he just said. Or rather, if Dean agreed. That guy was so stupid. Dean was unable to suppress the need to roll his eyes and was glad Cas couldn’t exactly see his face.

“Yeah, me too, Angel,” he responded without thinking any further. Castiel still hadn’t told him why Dean had found him in the basement after he apparently had a prime crying session on his own, and Dean didn’t want to pressure him into anything, so he waited until Castiel would be ready to talk about it.

Dean also hadn’t heard anything from Sam apart from a call checking in and telling him that he’d arrived safely. Sam had also told him to greet Cas, then hung up. But not without making some innuendos Dean ignored with a signature “Bitch”. His little brother had countered with the usual “Jerk” and then, the line had gone dead. Dean hadn’t even asked about their father, but he also hadn’t called Sammy out on his bullshit. He never thought that everything would get so complicated. But at least he had Cas in his arms and that was a huge step forward. As much as the world was giving him shit, at least he had this little bubble of happiness going with the blue-eyed angel on his side. Though his bubble would eventually pop, he only hoped for it to last a little longer. Knowing the odds, Dean felt that something was coming at them when suddenly, a key turned, he heard the door open and a black-haired guy with an arrogant sneer frozen on his mug walked in and stopped dead in the doorway. Cas jumped up, staring at the guy who Dean distinctly remembered as Michael and followed Cas suit.

“Brother!”

Michael looked from Castiel to Dean, then glanced around the apartment.

“I see you have not followed my orders, Castiel.”

That simple statement made Cas fidget around and look to the ground. Dean didn’t know what was going on furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“I …”

“Castiel, I told you---you are coming home with me. You had two weeks. Time’s up and you still haven’t packed your shit?”

Slowly it dawned on Dean what Michael said and his brain started to comprehend, his brain eventually understanding why Castiel had been upset. When he stepped up and was about to say something, that arrogant prick halted him with an outstretched finger.

“Don’t you dare to say something, faggot,” Michael cooly warned him, anger in his voice.

“Brother, please.” Castiel seemed empty again and everything Dean had worked on building back up in him over the past two and a half weeks shattered in front of him and fell to the ground.

“Don’t ‘Brother’ me, Castiel. It’s enough. I can’t let you ruin your life for some scum that came along. Come home with me, you’ll get over this phase and we can look for building your life up into the right direction again,” Michael spoke, way too full of himself in Dean’s opinion. Quite frankly, no one in the room asked for his opinion though and he turned to Cas.

“You don’t have to go with him,” he reminded him, but Castiel shook his head.

“And you should shut up,” MIchael said. “This isn’t your place to talk, so keep your inept beliefs to yourself.”

“Excuse you?” Dean spoke up and placed his body in front of Cas’, shielding him from his brother. He had tried to stay back, but he was sick of the way Michael was talking to them. Like he was something better. For what? Being straight? Michael turned his attention from his crying brother, which seemed to strangely satisfy him, over to Dean who seemed ready to attack him at any second now.

“What do you want. I’m talking to my brother, so make it quick.”

Another wave of fury rushed through Dean and he felt his fingers tingle when he balled his hands into fists. His knuckles turned white and he couldn’t help but speak through clenched teeth.

“Then try again and speak to him as if he really is your brother and as if you believe in that, instead of using it to your advantage,” he brought out with flaring nostrils. Michael appraisingly looked at him and Cas whimpered behind Dean’s back.

“None of your business.”

“It is, actually, because Cas is my friend and you are a plain old asshole,” Dean retaliated. Another whimper from Cas behind him told him to slow down and breathe, but he couldn’t. This guy was unbelievable.

“You should go,” Michael said cooly. “I don’t talk to faggots.”

And that was it. Before Dean could stop himself he was onto Michael, jumping him and giving him his best right hook. He wasn’t even doing it for himself. He couldn’t give two shits about being called a faggot. But Cas? Cas deserved more than that asshole. Dean saw red, his fists flying through the air with Michael having an awfully bad defense, and soon enough he sad on his opponent's chest, pinning him down with his knees. He breathed heavily and hit Michael again, blood spilling from the Michael’s mouth and nose. His left eye was probably going to swell shut and it would hopefully remind him on why he was a waste of space.

“Dean. DEAN!”

Castiel grabbed him by his chest and wrestled his trembling body away from his brother. Dean didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was expecting, really. But it wasn’t Cas running to his brother and trying to comfort him. Did he not realize what just happened?

“How could you do that, Dean?” Cas said with a heavy voice, thick with tears and sorrow. He was panicking and folding his arms over his head to get a little more air into his lungs.

“Cas -” Dean attempted reaching out, but Cas flinched and looked at him, hurt on his face that wasn’t coming from his body. Dean stared at him, still on his knees. Where did this take such a wrong turn? Cas was afraid of him?

“Get out, Dean,” he mumbled, now focussing on his brother. Michael was a mess. In his rage, Dean hadn’t even realized how many times he had beaten him square in the face. The fact that he was still breathing was notable considering all the blood on and around him, but also by how he was grunting in pain, a fact which had completely washed over Dean. He looked down at his knuckles which were painted red. Even his white shirt had a few specks of blood on it where the only thing he ever spilled on him before was the usual engine grease.

“Go, okay?” Cas sobbed and tried to touch his brother as to comfort him, but Michael pushed him away roughly. A few attempts later and he was swaying back and forth but stood back on his feet.

“You will pay for this,” Michael spit and a bit of saliva mixed with blood left through his swollen lips and dribbled down his chin. Dean just stared at him, also getting up to his feet, looking from Michael to Cas. He took a step forward, and satisfaction bubbled up when Michael took an equal step back from him.

“Get out,” Cas repeated, his voice louder now and Michael grinned at him through bloody teeth.

“Both of you. And leave the key”

Then, Castiel turned around and fled into his bedroom where they could hear him locking himself in.

Michael looked at him.

“You heard him, f…” he bit off the rest of his sentence when Dean took another step towards him.

“You too,” he spat back, anger flaring back through him.

Michael snuffled and rubbed off some of the blood on his chin by using his sleeve.

“Didn’t you hear him? He doesn’t want you anymore. You can stop taking advantage of him and making him your lapdog, you stupid fuck. Leave my brother alone. Stop manipulating him to become something he will regret,” he then spoke and turned to leave. Dean followed him in some distance, keeping himself from exploding again or trying to explain that Cas didn’t quite choose to be gay, nor that he had in any way ‘turned him’. Fucking idiot.

He still made sure that Michael left the key to the apartment, and once he had retreated defeat into the elevator, Dean stumbled back to his own apartment. He felt hot tears roll down his cheeks when he unlocked his door and threw it close behind him.

Cas was afraid.

Of him.

He turned in one smooth movement and punched a hole through the wall of his kitchen.


	12. March 18, 1990

March 18, 1990, 08:01 AM

Castiel was locking his door behind him to leave for class when he turned around and nearly bumped into Dean standing behind him. He looked sleepy, like he just woke up, and his clothes were wrinkled. For a moment, it looked like he had camped out in front of Cas’ door, but he tried to not think about it. What good would it do? Cas had never thought that Dean would have a side to him like he had seen yesterday. Sure, he had been in the military and he was a fighter in every sense there was. But seeing him beat up someone, even if it was to protect him… he couldn’t understand why, whatever he tried. Cas hadn’t slept a lot and felt like shit as Dean looked. Dean’s knuckles were red and crusts of blood were still covering them, the right one swollen and blue. There were trails in between showing clean skin. It looked like single drops of water had fallen down and washed away some of the blood. Castiel wondered what happened. But he tried not to because as much as he wanted to thank Dean for standing up for him, he was conflicted. Michael was and would always be his brother, so walking up to him and jumping him when Dean was out of words was in no way the right way to deal with him. Castiel waited for Dean to say something and pointedly looked at his watch to signal that he had to go. It wasn’t a lie, he had places to be. Libraries to search for books. People to talk to without looking like a wreck.

When Dean finally moved, his eyes had captured Castiel once more. Just like always, the grass green was holding him in pain, piercing him through layers of sorrow and doubt. The next thing Cas knew, he was pressed against his door. Where their bodies were intertwined already, Dean took it slow to let their worlds collide and place his lips on top of Cas’. Unlike last time, he gave him some more time to react, though it were only seconds he stood there. Castiel’s brain was on fire and screamed at him, asked him to stop but his body’s reflexes were built around everything Dean, which was the main reason he couldn’t help himself but kiss the freckled face in front of him. Dean’s lips were rough and blunt, not as rough as the stubbles that rubbed against his chin. The smell of tobacco and soap mixed with an all too familiar aftershave and alcohol filled his nostrils, a smell that, apart from maybe the last ingredient, had replaced his usual sense of feeling home throughout the past weeks. So what if he was intoxicated again. Dean desperately pressed his upper body against Cas’, wrapping his arms around him to hold him close. Cas responded by deepening the kiss. When Dean asked for entrance with his tongue, Cas’ body willingly obeyed. And as desperately as Dean’s fingers roamed his hips and back, the kiss stayed soft and made Castiel’s chest hurt. He realized things at that moment, things that he did not want to realize. Things he wanted to keep denying until he died or could build a life without relying on his family's money. But for now, he was trapped.

Dean pulled away, questioningly stroking Castiel’s cheeks to wipe off the tears streaming down with both of his hands gently gripping Cas’ face. Ever so gently, Dean closed the space again, pecking his lips, then his nose. Then, both of his eyes. More tears spilled, and Castiel pushed Dean away slowly but steadily. Dean’s arms fell to his side like a rag doll’s.

“Please stop,” Castiel whispered, trying to control the voice that would betray him if he spoke louder. Dean licked his lips but didn’t make another move. He didn’t speak and waited.

“I can’t do this, Dean. My family already hates me for being stupid, I can’t give them another reason and be… that,” Castiel desperately gestured towards both of them. Dean opened his mouth to say something but closed it, looking like a fish gasping for air.

“I can’t be gay, Dean. Please. Please stop,” he continued. To his surprise, Dean took a deep breath and took another step back. Then, he nodded.

“I get it, angel,” he smiled, but the smile was sad. Broken. Did he cause that?

“It’s alright. I just… I need you in my life. Even if it’s just as friends. Castiel,” Dean stated and Cas’ heart jumped a beat. He had never heard his full name leave Dean’s mouth. “If it takes me to stick around as a friend to make you look at yourself in a better way, a right way that doesn’t just channel your family's stupid beliefs, I’m okay with that. You helped me so much without even knowing,” he chuckled sarcastically.

“But I can’t, Dean.” The chuckle stopped and Dean stared at him with hurt clouding the bright green in his eyes. It was like a summer storm had covered his grounds.

“I can’t stay your friend, Dean. There is too much… too much has happened between us. My world is upside down. I was good at being alone before you came around. What am I supposed to do if you stay?” Castiel spoke, clearly upset. He was raising his voice with every word and there was ringing in his ears. He needed to get out. Dean’s eyes fell to the ground and he watched his feet, trying to come up with a clever response that obviously didn’t find its way out. When he looked up, there was a single tear running down Dean’s cheek and he shrugged.

“I thought you were my golden ticket, Cas.” He sounded defeated, his voice suppressed. “You were finally something good. My dad is a fucking asshole and Sammy is slipping through my fingers, but you... “ He let out a breath that violently rocked through his chest. “You know that you could be free of those burdens you got if you weren’t that lost in your head, right? You just need to try and live at some point instead of making excuses.” Another violent breath before he locked his eyes on Cas’ once more.

“We choose our own fate, remember?”

“I do,” Cas admitted. “But you wouldn’t understand.”

A bitter chuckle came from the older man in front of him.

“No, Dean, you wouldn’t. Because you cut yourself off your family early, you went through all this stuff by yourself and you managed, for god’s sake. But I am dependent on mine. I can’t just cut them off because then I have to go back. I have to go and leave this city, my studies, everything I love!” He mumbled the last part and looked back at his clock. He would be late meeting Balth, and he was getting sick of the thousand needles in his stomach cutting him open from the inside whenever he dared to look at Dean.

“I shouldn’t have called you,” he concluded.

“What?” Dean was shocked, his eyes big.

“Dean, I can barely pay for my own groceries without my parents helping me out, I should have just listened to them and stayed there. I shouldn’t have started this fight so Michael would have never come here to get beaten up by you. You… you don’t fit into my life, Dean Winchester. I’m sorry.”

Dean, again, opened his mouth but only a strangled noise escaped his chest, a noise that made Castiel question every decision he had just made. Once more, Dean licked his lips to stall and look for a better argument, but there was nothing. If Cas didn’t want him in his life, if he didn’t fit, what was left to say between the two of them? Nothing. He slowly nodded.

“See you around, Cas.”

“I guess, Dean since we are living in the same apartment we will - “

“Cas. Just… stop. ”

“Okay.”

“I SAID STOP!” 

Castiel looked at him in shock, raising his hands in defense and couldn’t help but flinch. He waited for the blow that never came. Instead, Dean looked at him, shocked. When he was sure nothing happened, he dared to speak again.  
“I said okay, Dean,” he repeated, but Dean was furious, tears full force streaming down his face.  
“I… would never… Nevermind. Bye, Angel.”

Castiel didn’t respond, his chest clenching together so badly when Dean turned and left, that he nearly doubled over in pain. How were people keeping up with friends if it hurt so much to lose them in the first place? How did anyone manage this? He waited until Dean disappeared into his apartment before he took a deep breath. Dean had walked so slowly, it almost seemed as if he wanted Cas to call him back. But he didn’t. That was it. Castiel took a little bit to collect himself and went back into his apartment. He grabbed a few things he would need and nearly ran out of the building. When he arrived on campus an hour later, Castiel ignored all the gazes he got for rushing through the people and towards the philosophy class he wasn’t part of while looking like crap. Once he found Balthazar, he pulled him away from the others and dragged him with him with relentless force.

“Cassie, what the heck?”

“I’ve never asked you for a favor,” Castiel pleaded, causing his best friend to look at him suspiciously.

“What happened?”

“I’ve never asked you for a favor, but please, Balthazar. Can we skip today and just… don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. But let me escape for a day. Please,” he repeated himself and stumbled over his words, but Balthazar instantly took the duffle bag from him which he clutched in his hands. He then put a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Castiel. Let’s get out of here,” he said while leading his friend away from the crowds and towards the parking lot. For the first time, Castiel was honestly happy for Balthazar forcing himself into his life. He didn’t know what else he could do.

“Wanna stay the night?” Balth asked while handing Castiel his helmet and hopping onto his motorcycle.

“If I may.”

Balthazar affectionately hit Castiel in the shoulder.

“Of course, Cassie. We’ll have a PJ party, gossip over guys -” He backtracked immediately when he saw Castiel’s face fell. “Or not, not gossip over anyone, nevermind that. Hop on, Cas.”

While Balthazar sped down the streets, Castiel's mind involuntarily went to Dean and wondered how much more he would drink now. His hands clenched into Balthazar’s shirt and his head dropped onto Balthazar’s back while more tears streamed down his face, the noises he made only muffled by the helmet and the wind.


	13. April 21st, 1990

April 21st, 1990, 09:00 AM

It wasn’t like Cas anticipated meeting Dean in the hallway again. He was still angry with him, and disappointed, but seeing him so far away from him was probably what hurt the most. It had been weeks, again, but none of them had approached the other one. They got glimpses of each other every here and there, but they had silently agreed on keeping it to a dull wave to acknowledge each other’s presence. It didn’t feel right, but they couldn’t help it. Decisions were made and Castiel, for one, didn’t know how or if he could take them back. When he had grown up, Gabriel had always helped him and dragged him along with his friends. Most times that had backfired and they hadn’t liked Castiel. After a while, most of them had refused to meet up with Gabriel as long as he would bring his weird brother, but Gabriel had always stuck with him. That had never changed, up until Castiel moved away after Gabe had convinced him to go and pursue his own happiness. How else would he be able to stand on his own two feet? Sure, Gabriel wouldn’t be around anymore, but he was sure that Cas would do fine and find his own friends. So when he’d met Balthazar, that obnoxious man forcing him to sit with him during breaks or in the library, introducing him to other people and slowly becoming an actual friend, Castiel had been proud of himself. He had managed to do what he always failed during his life and let someone in. When Gabe’s childhood friends had abandoned him and stopped giving him the well needed out from their family, Gabriel had acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. He still had his brother. They had each other’s backs. But he had never warned Cas how hard it actually was to lose a friend. How it hurt, especially if you still saw them on the streets or down the block. Especially if there was a bond that went above and beyond friendship.

Balthazar, of course, was still his friend. When Castiel stayed at his place for a few nights, eating ice cream and crying every now and then, he had finally opened up and came clean.  
Balthazar hadn’t been happy with his decision. In fact, he’d looked about ready to smack some sense into Castiel and told him that these stupid feelings he had were called ‘love’.  
But how could Castiel have known? He’d never felt any love, except for his brother. But that was different, because Gabe never left him, not really. Not even when he didn’t call for Christmas or couldn’t visit him for his birthday and lived hundreds of miles away, because he always made up for it.

But Dean, as close as he still was in a physical way, had left him in every other sense. And it had been his decision. He had decided to cut Dean out and lie to him through his teeth, telling him that he didn’t fit. Even when now, the bed seemed too big for Castiel to fit into alone and his apartment was dull without another soul in there with him. He felt stupid cooking for one person instead of two and not bickering about the rabbit food he liked, which in return reminded Dean of Sam and caused him to make fun of him. Now, nothing fit.

Balthazar had asked why he was such a coward for when it came to Dean. He’d asked why Castiel never asked for his help and never told him about what was going on. Sure, he understood that Castiel didn’t want to have others judge him or anyone catch onto him being queer, but was that really all there was? Balthazar was convinced that Castiel’s biggest problem was the fact that he couldn’t jump over his own shadow. He needed to admit to himself that this whole thing, as he called, it, was something else. And if he did, maybe he could work hard enough to get Dean back. Castiel didn’t admit it. Instead, he went home and tried not to think of how he cuddled up with Dean on his sofa, as if it was natural. Shut away from the outside, from the pressure of society and the hate people would give them, Castiel acted without thinking and subconsciously accepted himself a little more with every day.

Outside here, in the harsh reality he threw himself into, he was overthinking his every move.

The elevator opened in front of Castiel, and when he wanted to walk in, someone caught his attention. A giant of a man stood in front of him and shot him a sympathetic smile, nodding his head in greetings before stepping out and following the hallway down to Dean’s apartment. Castiel watched Sam until the elevator pinged to signal that it would close again, and he jumped in without a second glance. This would be a long day.

April 21st, 1990, 10:34 PM

The moment he left the bus, harsh winds tugged on Castiel's' dirty beige trenchcoat and let it hover in the air behind him whenever he took a step towards home. It wasn’t as cold anymore but sometimes he would miss the moist heat and always lasting summer nights in Cali, where his family usually went to during breaks in the colder months. The day hadn’t been easy and Castiel’s mind had jumped between fighting off Balthazar and Charlie, who wanted him to tag along to some party Crowley threw tonight, and Sam, whom he had seen only this morning. Dean was probably really bad off if his little brother came all the way from New York to see him. Dean wasn’t his problem anymore. He couldn’t be. Every time Castiel needed to clear his head a bit, he got off the bus a little earlier and walked the rest of the way home, although he regretted it today. Even walking for a few miles hadn’t taken his mind off of things. When he emerged from the staircase, his last resort to getting a clearer head, he jumped when he nearly walked into someone sitting on the floor. Someone as in Sam Winchester.

“Sam.” Castiel greeted him, offering him a hand to help him up. Sam gratefully accepted and stood up, stretching his numb limbs.

“Man, if I’d known how long it took you to come home I would’ve brought a book. I doubted you’d ever come home tonight,” Sam smiled patiently and Castiel apologized for no particular reason. It hadn’t been him in particular who made Sam sit on the cold floor, but he was the reason, after all, so he still felt bad.

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked him while he unlocked the door. For a moment, Cas thought about answering him and leaving him there. He eventually decided to ask him inside and shrugged off his trenchcoat.

“Okay, I guess. How are you?”

Castiel got two glasses of water and mentioned for Sam to take a seat on the couch, mumbling something about it being more comfortable than the floor. Sam, on the other hand, cocked his eyebrow at him.

“You don’t want to know how Dean is?”

Silence hung thick in the air of the small apartment while Castiel struggled to answer before Sam released him from the pain.

“I’m good, don’t worry.”

“That’s good to hear. How’s…?”

Sam gulped some water and put the empty glass on the coffee table.

“Not too well, although he is good at pretending.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. You probably came to honor your promise?” Castiel asked sadly, remembering the last time he had sat down with Sam in a room.

“Not really, Castiel. Dean told me what happened. How he beat up your brother and all… I get it.”

“You do?” Castiel stared intently at Sam, trying to make out whether he was being sarcastic or not.

“Yes, Cas. No hard feelings.”

“Then, and pardon me for being blunt, what exactly are you doing here, waiting in front of my apartment for hours?”

Sam leaned back a little and took in Castiel’s appearance. the wrinkled clothes he probably had been in for days now, the face that spoke of the lack of sleep he experienced. He sighed and looked to the feeling.

“I want to know if there is anything I can do.”

“Anything… you can do? Why?” Castiel’s voice broke at the last word. He felt how he was about to cry again, after not having an episode for days now, and tried to turn away. He stood up and grabbed Sam’s glass in the process, intending to refill it. Sam followed him in the kitchen though, and suddenly he felt himself being embraced in Sam’s arms.

Sam didn’t smell like Dean. Where Dean smelled of tobacco and soap sometimes mixed with a spicy aftershave, Sam smelled like grass and old books. He wasn’t as muscular as Dean, but he was strong and his embrace was tight. Apparently, Sam Winchester didn’t hate Castiel as much as he hated himself although he had indeed hurt his brother in the end. When he stepped back, the same sad smile from earlier had struck Sam’s features.

“I know this is a lot to ask of a stranger, but I really came to ask for your help. I know there is a lot going on between you two and it isn’t easy, but Dean needs you, Cas.”

It was strange hearing this nickname from Sam too.

“I don’t know how,” Castiel admitted, his voice thick with emotions. “I am too ashamed to love him, Sam. I don’t know how to do this and my own family hates me for being gay. I don’t know if that is what you meant or if you hate me too, now, or even Dean or -”

Sam cut off his rambling when he embraced him again, this one even tighter than the one before. He waited for a minute or two until Cas calmed down a little before he gave him space again.

“Listen, Cas, I know it’s hard on you. On both of you. Dean also told me about your family and I can’t even begin to imagine how that must feel because I never experienced that in particular.” He put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder when he wanted to turn away again.

“But both Dean and I know how it is to be abandoned by our family. He’s been through shit, too. But I’ve never, ever in his whole life seen him that honestly in love with someone. Castiel, you are special to my brother, so you’re also special to me, okay? And I won’t look at you differently because of who you love. Especially not if you make my brother happy with it. I still stand by my opinion that you are a fine man.”

“But I hurt him,” Castiel replied with a strangled breath.

“You sometimes hurt the people you love. As long as you know that you still love them and make up for it, that’s the whole point of it.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel then admitted, a pleading glint in his eyes. “It’s like gravity is dragging me down with every step I take without him by my side.”

Sam smiled, this time not so sad but understanding.

“Sometimes, Cas, love seems like that. Maybe that’s why love’s only demand is that we fall?”

The sentence hung in the air a little while and Castiel tried to sort through his thoughts.

“How am I supposed to help him anyway? Does he know you are here?”

“No, he isn’t. Dean’s on his way to New York?”

“New York? The same New York you father is in?”

“The funeral is one week from today, Cas. I thought you might want to know. Dean might not show it, even told me to tell you not to come if you should hear of it… but quite frankly, he knew I would come to talk to you and I really think he needs you there. I have a few air miles left, so if you want a ticket…”

Castiel nodded absentmindedly, then shook his head before he nodded again.

“Castiel, you can’t let other people make you feel ashamed for loving someone for who they are. You know that, right? You know that those people should be ashamed of making others feel bad about themselves or about falling in love with a soul rather than a person’s genitals. Especially if they are good for them and make them happy. You don’t need to listen to them. You need to fight for yourself, though.”

“You are the third person telling me this.”

“Who are the other two?”

“One is an obnoxious british man I know from college the other one… for having such a bad father, the two of you are very open and kind, you know that?”

Sam smiled a full-on grin now.

“That’s Dean’s work, actually. He refused to get up every morning and hate the world as Dad did. He also looked at our father and decided that he would be his reminder of the person he didn’t want to become. He literally raised me by that. He doesn’t give himself enough credit for things he does, though.”

This time, Cas smiled.

“Yeah, I recognize that from somewhere.”


	14. April 28, 1990

Cas watched Dean‘s back. Somehow, his usually upright composure was gone and his leather jacket suddenly looked two sizes too big, hanging loosely around his shoulders. He saw him shudder and Cas was not sure whether it was the cold that was piercing both their bodies. He clutched his trench coat and tried to wrap it tighter around his frame. In this very moment, Castiel wasn‘t sure if he should talk to Dean, nor if he was even supposed to. Maybe it was his duty to walk up to him and embrace him, but instead, he kept to himself. The whole time, Dean had fought. But the fight had been in his head and Castiel hadn‘t been able to help him through. It was Dean‘s marathon to run and in the end, he still wasn‘t able to run out all of these demons that kept up so easily. Today, Castiel wasn‘t even able to see the 32-year-old Dean Winchester, but a hurt child trapped in a weary man‘s body instead.

Sam nudged him one last time after helping him come here from the airport, then patted his shoulder and left the cold graveyard. Through his brother’s retreat, Dean still looked into space. He had not noticed Castiel awkwardly standing a few meters behind him and while snowflakes slowly danced around them, he could clearly hear Dean‘s strangled breathing. Cas wasn‘t sure how Dean would react if he saw him. There was a too wide range of possibilities. Naturally, he had gone through all of them multiple times, but no imagined speech could come up with the curve-balls reality sometimes threw at him. The real question was if he was able to catch it or got hit square in the face.

From where he stood, Castiel could not see a lot of John Winchester‘s grave but an open hole and his mind wandered off for a moment. A lot of things rushed through his head but he decided that all those questions about life could wait for another time, especially when Dean sucked in the air as if he was suffocating. Throwing all his plans overboard, his feet hit the already melting snow which covered the ground and before he knew, his hand was on Dean‘s shoulder. He expected him to jerk away or turn around, look at him with anger in his eyes and flared nostrils. Instead, Dean‘s head sunk onto his chest and a convulsive sob escaped his lips. He didn‘t turn around, didn‘t need to. And after a while, his already deep voice, roughened up by the cold and probably too many cigarettes, wove over to Castiel like a deep humming.

“I told Sam that I didn’t want you here,” Dean said and his voice was calmer than he expected it to be. Cas nodded, unaware that Dean couldn‘t see it and gripped his shoulder firmly.

„I know,“ he breathed.

„Then why are you here, Cas?“

The sobs got louder and Castiel shrugged while watching the short brown hair at the back of Dean‘s head. Or maybe it was a dark blond, he still hadn‘t figured that out. Truth was he wasn‘t sure why he had come. After everything that they had been through and after everything that had brought them here, he should probably have quit along the way. But there was something about Dean that he couldn‘t give up on. Maybe it was that side of him that he himself never acknowledged. The kind and caring Dean, the one that would easily get into fist fights for the ones he loved, who would drive 300 miles just to hug them and then take care of them in every possible way. The Dean that had saved him from not only his family but himself.

Out of all sudden Dean jerked his shoulder away and turned around, staring at Cas.

„Why are you here?“ he repeated. It was harder to look at him. His eyes were red and glazed over, he looked like he was sleep deprived and his skin was white as paper.

„Why would you fucking come here, Cas? Why?“ he asked, anger lacing his words but no trace of them in his eyes. There was but weariness and the usual sparks that ignited his soul were gone. But the green of his eyes was still the same, and they seemed to search for something in Castiel‘s face. Maybe mockery or pity. But he wasn‘t able to find any of that.

Castiel conjured a small smile on his lips. It wasn‘t forced, it just appeared the moment he saw Dean, but it would never reach his eyes when the guy he loved was in so much pain. He only hoped it looked comforting to Dean and not like he was trying anything weird.

„I heard people do that, you know? Being there for the one they love in times of fear, doubt and hurt?“ Castiel reminded Dean of his own words and hoped that it would resonate with him. Words were all he had left in that moment. At first, Dean kept staring at him and if it was another situation, Cas would have probably laughed about the fact that he could literally see Dean’s mind work. Then, his Ken-doll eyes went wide and Cas let out a breath. There was a spark coming back and filling the green with a hint of acknowledgment. Another sob escaped Dean‘s full lips and Castiel wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly. Castiel seemed to be smaller than usual, and somehow, it didn‘t take long for Dean to finally let go. The sobs now continuously left his shuddering frame and soon enough, Cas held up not only his own body weight but Dean‘s, too. Slowly, he brought him down to the ground and tried to shield him from the now harshly whirling snowflakes all around. Dean gripped his arm and pushed his head into the crook of Cas‘s neck while he tried to speak in between crying.

„He was an asshole, Cas!“

„I know, Dean. I’ve got you,“ Cas replied while he drew small circles on Dean‘s back.

„I hate him!“ Dean‘s sobs got louder again and his grip around Cas‘ arm got tighter. Castiel nodded against his temple and pressed a tender kiss onto his eyelid without really knowing what he was doing. Although Dean didn‘t seem to notice or mind.

„He was an abusive fuck and I hate him!” Dean nearly yelled this time.

„I know...“

„How could he become such a... how could he do this to Sammy? To... me?“ He breathed the last few words and Castiel was sure that for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester had admitted to himself that he had suffered from what his father had done to him.

„I never meant to become an alcoholic. I never meant to shut everyone out...“

„It‘s okay. I’ve got you, Dean,“ Cas kept whispering over and over again, every time Dean confessed one of the many thoughts he had locked away, hidden deep down in his mind for years.

After a while, Dean calmed down with every moment passing, so when he eventually seemed like he was back to his old self, or at least as close as he could get that day, Cas gently squeezed his hand that still wouldn‘t let go of his arm.

“Want to get out of here?“

Dean had been quiet most of the walk back to the hotel and he had wordlessly unlocked his room when they arrived, letting both of them in. He didn‘t even question the fact that Cas had no luggage except for the trenchcoat he now tossed over a chair, nor that he didn‘t have a room himself. He probably knew the moment he had seen him that Cas had just taken the next available flight to get here without any plan whatsoever.

„I‘m sorry, Cas,“ Dean breathed after he had paced the small space in between the bed and window which only displayed a small bit of what New York City actually had to offer for a while.

„I shouldn‘t have shut you out like that, I just... I was angry and scared that I was turning into my dad, I guess.“

Castiel stared at Dean this time, unsure whether he should be replying anything now. Especially since that was by far the only time Dean had ever talked about his feelings while being so... at ease?

„It‘s okay. I‘m -“

„- no, it is not. I got drunk and yelled at you because deep down I thought maybe your brother was right.“

„He‘s not!“ This time it was on Cas to get upset and he felt hot tears lingering in the corner of his eyes. How could Dean speak and think so lowly of himself? Cas knew him, he would never take advantage of someone, he cared too much even if he wouldn’t admit it..

„He isn‘t right, you are not taking advantage of me, Dean! Why would you say that? Are you fucking stupid?!“

And for the first time since they had seen each other, Dean started to laugh. A real, whole-hearted laugh vibrated through his upper body and he smiled at a sincerely confused Castiel when he turned to him.

„Did you just SWEAR?“ he teased and Castiel blushed.

„Whatever, Winchester. Point is -“

But Dean had already cornered him and now stood right in front of him, his breath tickling Castiel‘s nose. He stopped talking and looked at him as their worlds collided.

„I like it when you swear, Cas,“ Dean smirked now, his eyes sparkling with something dark he couldn‘t quite place while he took another step, his chest brushing against Castiel’s. Cas was ready to face Dean this time, his head clear. He’d had a whole flight and long evenings of phone calls with both Sam and Balthazar to work through his feelings and was ready to stand by himself. And by Dean. He didn’t back down and held the intense stare Dean gave him.

„I don‘t want to drag you down with me, Cas. I can‘t do that to you. You are too important to me, way too innocent and fragile and I can‘t,“ he then breathed. Castiel‘s breath caught in his chest. A sudden urge overcame him but instead of grabbing Dean by his collar and kissing him, he shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. He had never had such a feeling before, but a knot in his stomach was burning bright and warmth spread through him from within, replacing even the frozen feeling in his fingertips caused by the harsh cold outside. All that, caused by Dean Winchester.

„You are not dragging me down with you. And you didn‘t take advantage of me,“ Cas replied in a low voice, his fingers trembling as he gently placed them on Dean‘s shoulder just like he had done before. Only that there was by far a different chemistry in the room and as oblivious as he was most of the time, he kind of felt like it was right. It just felt so natural this time.

„You could never drag me down... and I‘m swearing because you are dumb, Dean. You are more than that self-loathing your stupid ass feeds from.“ Dean looked at him a bit taken aback, confused as of where that came from. Even more so as a small growl escaped Castiel‘s throat and before he knew, his hand grabbed the other man‘s leather jacket that still clung to his frame and he closed the space in between them. His lips sealed away the words that were about to be spoken and his eyes fluttered closed. He felt how Dean gently placed his fingers above his abdomen. He could feel that Dean was unsure. Mind him, the last time they had done anything like that, Cas had flipped his shit and didn‘t talk to Dean for days. Castiel firmly pressed his plump lips against Dean‘s full ones. When Dean didn‘t react still, he finally stopped, but refused to open his eyes as he pulled back.

„Cas.“

Dean‘s voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper.

„Cas, look at me.“

Slowly, he opened his eyes and met the shocked face of his best friend and one and only love. Castiel bit his lip, immediately catching Dean‘s gaze while doing so for some reason and wanted to hang his head, but Dean‘s other hand found his chin and kept him in place before he could even utter an apology. Then, Dean captured his gaze with his own. He seemed to be searching for something in Castiel‘s eyes again, and once Cas realized what it was, he nodded.

“Can you kiss me before I feel completely stupid, Winchester?”

A small smile tugged on Dean‘s lips and his right, still placed over Cas‘ abdomen, grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him flush against his own body. A strangled breath escaped the shorter man and he closed his eyes once more when he slowly tilted his head to the side. Dean‘s lips gently touched his, exploring them, getting used to the unfamiliar taste. He had felt Dean before, but never like that. Electric sparks rushed through his body like adrenaline, the knot in his abdomen now pulsating through his spine. The smell of tobacco and leather filled his nostrils. Castiel‘s hands seemed to roam without his doing, raking slim fingers through short, spiky hair, his other hand tracing his chest, slipping under his leather jacket and admiring the muscles beneath the thin fabric. Soon enough, Dean shrugged of his jacket and gently pushed him back until his knees met the edge of something soft. Castiel reluctantly pulled away from pure bliss and looked behind him, identifying the king-sized bed. When he returned his attention to Dean he saw him swallow hard, his pupils now deflated and filled with lust, nearly drowning out the apple green he loved so much.

„Cas, are you... sure?“ he asked and the blue-eyed took a deep breath.

„Dean Winchester, would you just shut up and fucking kiss me?“

With a final growl, Dean pressed back against Cas and forced them both to go down, holding the other one‘s head as he propped himself up above him. With squinted eyes, his gaze lingered on Castiel‘s lips for a moment before the trademark smirk reappeared on his face. He then gently lowered his head and placed a kiss on Cas‘s forehead. Dean took his sweet time, planting little pecks at his right eye, then his left - the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, before Castiel moved his head so their lips collided once more. But that kiss was different. Both of them felt it. With a lick against Cas‘s lower lip, Dean asked for permission to enter and it didn‘t take more than a second for Castiel to willingly open his mouth in desperate need of feeling Dean even closer. They moved their lips in perfect sync, their tongues exploring each other until Dean started to plant sweet, wet kisses along Castiel‘s jawline. He wandered lower, leaving hot trails down his throat, nibbling at his ear. Cas‘ eyes fluttered close and another staggered breath escaped his now swollen red lips, the knot in his stomach now replaced by chills running down his spine ending in a pulsating that went even further down. His body seemed to be acting on its own accord while his brain was clouded, but he somehow managed to get through to the rather occupied Dean and, with a tug at his own shirt indicate that there was too much fabric keeping them apart. Swiftly, Dean wiggled out of his own and helped Cas to sit up and get rid of his shirt. Once done, he immediately went back to hovering above Castiel, his warm fingertips now following the trail of Castiel's bare chest, playing with his nipple before turning his attention to his abdomen. He was pretty sure that it wasn‘t the change of temperature giving Cas those chills and his smirk grew wider when he spotted a bulge forming in Castiel‘s pants. Dean looked up to Cas, his gaze hot and anticipating through his lashes.

By then, Castiel was flushed red, a mixture of him being lost but also the fact that he was turned on and that was something he had never experienced before.

But it was Dean who was ashamed of his body for a second, wondering why those blue eyes seemed so interested in him. No one had ever seen him that bare and he felt exposed showing his scars.

„You are beautiful, Dean. You know that, right?“ After a moment or two, when he saw the face Cas gave him, his eyes filled with appreciation, he realized how much this guy had already changed him without knowing it. And it was okay.

Dean nodded and planted more kisses on Castiel‘s abdomen and hips before returning to occupy Castiel‘s mouth with his own. His own bulge brushed against Cas‘s and a moan got trapped in the back of his throat. Dean tried to slow down, wanted to make it comfortable for the both of them, but the moment Cas‘s hands were all over him he lost it. Their kisses got sloppier while their hips ground into each other and he felt like he was a teenager again, experiencing it all for the first time. Rather roughly, he pulled down Castiel‘s jeans and climbed down from the bed for a few seconds so he could remove his own. Now only in boxers, their bare skin seemed to connect everywhere. Again he looked at Castiel to make sure he was okay, but his only reaction was to bite his lips and innocently brush his hand along the massive boner Dean was having by then.

Another soft moan sliced through the air, which was heavy with sweat and anticipation. Dean was still caught up in the sight underneath him so that he didn‘t exactly realize how Castiel‘s hand slipped into his own boxers. Only when his cold fingertips stroked his hardened arousal he had some problems to remember how to breathe. His head fell back and with his throat exposed, he let Cas take care of him.


	15. Years Later, 2001

Unusual for this month, even for New York, snow was gently falling from the sky. There were flickering lights in the distance and they wouldn‘t sleep any time soon. They never did. But something was off, and soon it was clear that it wasn‘t the usual big city lights. It wasn‘t the neon white lamps and flashing blue and red colored signs showing that the shops were about to open. It wasn‘t the Broadway lights with their big wall advertising panels sending hints of misplaced colors into the bright blue above. Somehow the cold city lights were washed away by warm lights and black smoke drifting into the air from somewhere inside the maze of skyscrapers.

The traffic had stopped abruptly and after sitting around for half an hour, unsure about what was going on and not moving back and forth, Cas decided to get out of his vehicle. His feet hit the asphalt and a mild breeze entangled his tie and black hair. Something rumbled beneath the ground and the sea was rough for this time of year. It felt like something was dragging him towards lower Manhattan for some reason, and a funny feeling bubbled up in his chest. A weird atmosphere was lingering in the air and one after another they abandoned their cars and stepped out to get a better view across from the bridge they were trapped on. The neon signs of shops that usually made the city look like it would never sleep, even that early in the morning, had been replaced by seemingly thousands of sirens flickering blue and red. Even the brightness of the rising sun seemed dull against the sea of flashing lights. Still, even they couldn‘t drown out the orange and red flames which were illuminating the brightening sky, turning blue to purple. Cas stretched out his palm, his eyes moving from the chaos he could see down to the snowflakes that would gently caress his skin. Only that it wasn‘t snowflakes, he then saw. Instead of melting away from his body heat, they crumbled to pieces and left jet black trails on whatever they touched. He furrowed his brows in confusion and his blue eyes shot up heavenwards. Soon he realized that it indeed wasn't snow mockingly dancing around the city but cinder filling the air, making it hard to breathe.

Suddenly, something in his pocket buzzed and Castiel‘s fingers enclosed a mixture of metal and plastic, warmed by the body heat gathered in his jean‘s pocket. The dull orange display showed one name and Castiel‘s heart did a little jolt.

**09/11/2001 - 09:02 AM**   
**Incoming Call**   
**\- Dean -**

„Hello, De-“

„Cas? Cas, can you - I have bad con- ct- n. Ca-. Cas?“

„Dean, calm down, slow down. What‘s going on?“

„Cas?“

„Yes, Dean, I can hear you a bit better now, what‘s goi-“

„- Listen up, Cas. I don‘t kn-w -at‘s hap-ing, but - will try to ke-ep -u post-. -ometh- happened, I don‘

t know ev-ryone -s fre-ing out, there is smoke c-min- -om the ot-r tower and -“

A heavy toot signalized that the connection was completely gone now and Castiel stared at his phone. He had full connection, so it wasn‘t his side that had let him down. Worry grumbled in his stomach now and seemed to have an icy cold grip on his intestines. His mind raced. What was happening? He knew that Dean was in the city, he was having a meeting with his sponsors early this morning. They both had gotten up extremely early and while Cas had prepared some pancakes for breakfast - Dean‘s recipe, he had made it his mission to teach Cas how to cook during the past few years - decorated them with fruits and syrup, Dean had been getting dressed. He was wearing his finest suite and although Castiel had had to help him with his tie, he looked dashing and it took the artist every ounce of his willpower not to rip the clothes off Dean‘s body and make him be late for the probably most important meeting of his life. All week long, Dean had been massively nervous, he had not been able to sit still for more than three minutes during the last week and always flicked his index finger against his right knee. Castiel had been trying to distract him for good but the worries about what the sponsors would say about Dean‘s plans for his very own garage were eating him up from the inside. He was so sure they would say no that he mentioned to just stay home multiple times and Cas could only hope for the best. Right now, though, he hoped that Dean‘s connection was just bad because seemingly everyone around him was trying to call or already speaking with someone on their cell phones.

A noise that his mind had apparently been put in the rear got louder with every second and when Castiel looked into the sky another time, a plane was flying low over their heads, full force soaring through the air.

It was only when a crash tuned out the rest of the world that Castiel realized that there were planes flying into way too low. His mouth fell agape and tears stung in his eyes even before he realized which buildings they were hitting. The moment the metal wings touched the glass windows though, the whole plane seemed to transform into a ball of fire, imploding from the inside before it was swallowed by black smoke. Now, Castiel was able to pinpoint the exact location of where the chaos had started.

The twin towers in the heart of the city known as the big apple. Up in flames, rising high into the morning air and filling it with a kaleidoscope of colors, an orchestra of intertwining hues.

„Shit,“ Castiel gasped, his hands wandered to his head in disbelief and his blue eyes watered up from the brightness the moment his phone started buzzing again, this time playing an ironically happy melody which nearly made him drop it right there and then. He could hear people gasp around and above him, everyone on Brooklyn bridge had realized that something was happening by now.

„Shit!“ he began but all words he could think of were wiped off his mind when his display was showing another incoming call.

**09/11/2001 - 09:08 AM**   
**Incoming Call**   
**\- Dean -**

„Dean!“

His mind and heart both were racing now, his breath shallow and his eyes were roaming the sky. He could hear Dean breathe on the other side, the connection was a bit better now.

„Dean? Dean, talk to me, Dean!“

A hoarse sob came through and beneath static noises, he made out Dean‘s whisper.

„Cas, thank god I reached you. I just want to hear your voice...“ More sobs. Cas eyes widened and he felt unbelievably sick from one second to the next.

„It‘s okay, Dean,“ he croaked. „I‘m here. I got you. Tell me what‘s going on!“

Silence. Then, another hoarse whisper, anxiety coloring Dean‘s tone.

„I don‘t want to die, Cas. Please...“

His blood seemed to freeze in his veins and his breath hitched in his throat. He swallowed dryly, trying to find words.

„You are not going to die, Dean. Where are you? Tell me where you are!“

„I‘m... in the second tower. I think we got hit. We were told to stay put until they knew what happened to the north tower but... oh Cas, shit, I am so scared I‘m gonna die, what‘s going on there is smoke everywhere I can‘t see anything and... and..“ a scream in the background on Dean‘s end, then some noises. Castiel called his name but he was gone. He waited in anticipation until he could hear the unregulated breathing of Dean once more.

„Dean, what happened?“

„Nothing... I‘m... It‘s just chaos and there is this little kid who lost her parents. I‘ll try to help... I don‘t know... I‘m lost, Cas. I just want to be home with you. I should have stayed home,“ he admitted and went quieter with every word, but somehow Castiel was still able to make out every single one. He nodded, forgetting that Dean could not see him through the tiny but heavy device in his hand.

„It‘s going be alright, Dean. I promise. Go help that little kid, call me back when you can and have news. I‘ll try to get some info from the outside.“ Of course, he was thinking clearer when he was able to help someone else instead of thinking about his own demise. That was so typical for Dean but wasn‘t helping Castiel at all. He was a wreck from the outside but made himself move. One foot in front of the other. Then the next. He roughly shoved his phone back into his pocket and kept the smoking and burning buildings in his view while he slowly but surely got his body to do what he wanted it to. Soon enough, although not fast enough in his opinion, his legs worked and he fell into a full sprint down Brooklyn Bridge. Trying to regulate his breathing and swallowing down the stigma he ran and ran until his every muscle roared for him to stop.

After passing a skatepark below the bridge, he jumped over the little fence that separated the streets which occupied now still traffic and the sidewalks and followed the promenade, sprinted down a staircase that led him towards the University. Taking a sharp right he then followed Frankfort street and Park Row, fear now edging back into his mind. People were standing or running everywhere, either staring at the inferno or running away from it. There were only a few running towards the buildings. Now crossing broadway he nearly stopped when he saw the severity of what was going on. There were ambulances but not nearly enough to cover people who were injured by falling shards and debris. The heat was hitting Castiel and his eyes were roaming the streets to find a certain freckled face. But all he could see were the uniforms of NYPD swarming the sidewalks and yelling commands.

His mind spun back and the past ten years slowly crept into his mind. Memories flashed in front of his eyes and he completely blocked out the firefighter talking to him. After he had graduated, Dean had kept his promise and bought them an apartment in New York City. He kept it a secret until Castiel came home from the graduation ceremony to see all their stuff neatly packed and piled up in boxes. They had left together and never looked back. Castiel had found his first real job as an illustrator for a small magazine before moving up and getting recognized. Dean kept in close contact with Sam, who got married in 1991. His beautiful wife, Jess, gave birth to their first child four years later.

By now, Castiel owned a gallery and damn, they had done well. Dean and he had moved from the ratty one-room apartment down in Queens up to the wealthier part of the big apple. Dean had worked his ass off over the years and eventually ranked up and partly took over some garage in Manhattan, whereas Castiel‘s fame spread and people got crazy over his pieces. At the end of their technically seventh year together they had moved up to Civic Center after both had gotten pretty good deals for their works and it was then that they finally took a weekend off, going down to Vegas to get married. Dean had proposed to Castiel way earlier. It was their third year in New York, still down in Queens and in between bringing out the trash, stumbling over some junkies in their trashy backyard and fighting over being sick of this place, Dean had yelled at him to just marry him so he could take care of him. Dean had not gotten a straight answer out of Castiel, but the fight had stopped, considering Castiel was completely speechless. So every time they would fight, Dean would ask again and again. Until Castiel finally said 'Yes' on the 14th of December, 1993.

„SIR!“ The firefighter yelling into Castiel‘s face finally brought him back to reality, tears running down his cheeks.

„Sir, I beg you to leave the perimeter. It‘s not safe, just go, there are other people I need to take care of, injured people!“ The guy kept talking to Castiel, but he ignored him and walked just past, leaving the guy behind mouth agape.

They were thinking about adopting children. This couldn‘t be happening now.

His gaze darted skywards. Bewildered, he watched the chaos unfold with every passing second.

**09/11/2001 - 09:36 AM**   
**Incoming Call**   
**\- Bobby Singer -**

He declined the call, only briefly looking at the display of his cell phone and kept his gaze on the flames raking up the buildings. His eyes seemed to hurt from looking into the bright orange lights but he didn‘t care. At all. There were groups of people coming out of the first tower every now and then, lead by firefighters but it looked worse when he turned his attention to the entrance of the north tower and realization dawned on him.

**09/11/2001 - 09:44 AM**   
**Incoming Call**   
**\- Dean -**

„Dean,“ he breathed, closed his eyes and swallowed the tears. Something kept him from talking. Dean had wanted to stay at home this morning. He said he had a bad feeling. Cas gripped his hair and pulled a little so that the pain would keep him from losing it.

„Cas... I love you,“ Dean said, but his voice was calmer than before.

„You sound like you are saying goodbye,“ Cas joked. It was their joke, the one they always made when they got too cheesy or felt embarrassed for showing too many feelings. This time, something tugged on Castiel though, made him feel like his body was too heavy to hold up so he sank on his knees when he didn‘t get a response at all.

„Are you saying goodbye?“ he whispered, and fresh tears tore their way through the smeared ash on his face.

„I love you, Castiel Winchester. I love you so fucking much,“ Dean choked and stopped talking, probably trying to control himself implied by his heavy breathing. Cas could literally see the plumb lips and wide eyes staring at him like the first time he had admitted that aloud, scared, insecure. Letting down his guards. There was so much unsaid words behind those few and it tore Castiel apart.

„That‘s the moment where you have to say it back, you know?“ Dean attempted to joke now but it didn‘t quite get through as a joke with his strangled voice filled with sadness and regrets.

„I love you, Dean Winchester. I really do,“ Castiel kept whispering. He was still not processing anything around him and felt as if he was caught in a bubble, a small wrinkle in time where Dean wasn‘t trapped in a burning building, a place where they could talk forever.

„I know.“ Castiel could hear a short release of happiness in Dean‘s voice and he wanted to scream and yell at the sky to make the love of his life be right there with him instead of being up there. Little things like the smile that always tugged on Dean‘s lips after Castiel would confess his love to him were the bright things in life. The silver lining. He had found his silver lining in Dean.

„Is there any possibility for you to -“

„Cas. Cas, it‘s okay,“ Dean mumbled but it didn‘t calm Castiel down, only made him angry.

„How on earth is this okay, Dean, we are talking while you are in a building a freaking plane crashed into, we are talking while ... while I‘m losing you,“ he concluded and dragged his hand through his hair and face. What was he supposed to do? What was Dean expecting him to do? Just sit here and wait until he burned or suffocated in there? They were quiet for a bit, seconds ticking by.

„I won‘t.“

„What?“ Confusion displayed in Castiel‘s features.

„I won‘t burn alive. I just decided I won‘t. Also, the girl is safe, Cas,“ Dean explained and there was a hint of happiness, now mixed with jealousy in his voice. Oh how easily Dean would get jealous. It was cute at every other occasion, especially since Cas would never want anyone but him, and although he reassured him nearly every day he still got jealous about little things.

„She is?“

„Yeah, she was able to crawl through a gap in some debris and a firefighter got her out. They are working on getting us out but...“ Castiel gulped and nodded, a dumb habit of his. He knew that Dean couldn‘t see him. And Dean had told him so many times with a laugh barked through the line. Castiel‘s eyes traced the landscape and he saw how people came running out of the second tower now, the one Dean was in. They seemed panicking and trying to get away from the buildings as fast as possible. Someone tugged at his arm but Cas ignored them until someone tried to wrestle him away from where he stood, screaming into his ear that the building would collapse any second now. All he wanted was to hear Dean‘s voice again and while he put effort into fighting against the firefighter dragging him down the road, he glanced at his phone.

**09/11/2001 - 09:57 AM**   
**Ongoing Call: 00:11:57**   
**\- Dean -**

„There isn‘t enough time, Cas,“ Dean concluded the next time he heard that rough voice of his husband.

„There will never be enough time to show you how much you mean to me,“ he continued.

„Dean, stop, they will -“

„You heard it yourself. The tower will collapse but... I can‘t wait for that.“

„What do you mean, you can‘t wait for that? Dean?“

„If I wait I will burn alive. I told you that‘s not how I‘m going out.“

„Dean!“

„I‘ll choose my own fate, right?“ Dean reminded Castiel of the promise held within those words.

„DEAN! What- “

„I love you,“ he firmly stated before Dean went silent on his side of the line. Castiel tried to get a reaction out of him by calling his name, yelling, screaming. Still ignoring the man trying to bring him to safety.

Then, something big fell down from the tower. It crashed in the ruins of what had already fallen, stirred up the flames and smoke but the moment the figure disappeared within the ruins, a single noise came from Castiel‘s phone.

One single long beeping noise.

Petrified, he stared at the spot, stopped struggling at once. A second guy came helping and both firefighters dragged Castiel down the now empty street. A glance at his phone.

**09/11/2001 - 09:59 AM**   
**Call Ended: 00:13:14**   
**\- Dean -**

He only faintly realized, but with the crashing of the first tower, his life was crashing down, too.

** **

**THE END**


End file.
